There’s a quiet, complicated truth that many foster and adoptive moms carry in their hearts but rarely speak out loud. It’s a sentence they whisper to themselves in the middle of the night, during a hard visit, or while breaking down in the car after holding it all together for days:

“I love this child with everything in me… but I don’t always love this life.”

And if you’ve ever thought that—this post is for you.

Because you are not alone. You are not broken. And you are not a bad mom for feeling this way.

You are a human being doing sacred work inside a system that often asks too much and gives too little.

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This Is the Unspoken Grief of Foster and Adoptive Parenting

From the outside, foster care is often portrayed as a beautiful, heroic journey—opening your heart, giving a child a safe place to land, helping them heal. And yes, there is beauty in this work. There are redemptive, tear-filled, joyful moments that matter deeply.

But what doesn’t always get talked about is how complex this life is.

What most people don’t see is:

• The attachment disorders that feel like rejection

• The court decisions that are completely out of your control

• The trauma responses that show up as aggression, silence, or sabotage

• The daily, invisible labor of parenting a child through their own storm

And through it all, you’re expected to be calm. Gracious. Regulated. Emotionally available. Always advocating. Always understanding.

No one told you that loving a child this much could also feel this heavy.

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The Guilt That Follows

Because we do love these kids with everything in us, it’s hard to reconcile that love with the resentment or fatigue we sometimes feel about the life that came with them.

So we stay quiet.

We internalize thoughts like:

• “If I say this out loud, people will think I regret it.”

• “If I really loved my child, I wouldn’t feel this way.”

• “Other moms seem to be handling it better—what’s wrong with me?”

• “I chose this, so I can’t complain.”

These thoughts keep us isolated.
They keep us stuck in shame.
And they prevent us from accessing the very thing we need most: support.

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Naming the Tension: Both/And

One of the most powerful things you can do as a foster or adoptive mom is give yourself permission to live in the both/and.

You can:

• Love your child and grieve the life you had before

• Be committed to this journey and feel overwhelmed by it

• Be grateful for what you’ve gained and acknowledge what you’ve lost

• Celebrate milestones and still feel sadness or fear

There is no perfect version of you that needs to exist in order for your love to count.

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What Loving the Child Looks Like

Loving your child means:

• Staying up late to soothe night terrors

• Holding space for their anger, even when it’s directed at you

• Learning how trauma rewires the brain so you can parent more intentionally

• Advocating when no one else shows up

• Staying, even when it’s hard

And none of that changes just because you’re struggling.

In fact, the presence of struggle proves your depth of commitment. You feel it because you care.

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Why the Life Is Hard

Let’s talk honestly about why this life is hard—because it’s not just about behaviors or logistics.

It’s hard because:

• You’re carrying stories that aren’t yours to fix but still hurt like they are

• You’re navigating systems that were never built to support families long-term

• You’re expected to regulate a child who is dysregulated while staying regulated yourself

• You’re isolated—emotionally, socially, and often spiritually

It’s hard because the work you’re doing is emotionally intimate and systemically under-supported.

It’s not you. It’s the reality.

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The Power of Saying It Out Loud

Saying “I love my child but I don’t always love this life” is not a confession of failure.
It’s a declaration of honesty. And that honesty is the first step toward healing.

Because once you say it out loud, you create space for support. You stop pretending. You stop hiding. You give yourself permission to need—and to receive.

This is not a journey meant to be done alone. It was never meant to be a one-woman show.

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How to Create Space for Both

Here are a few ways to begin honoring the complexity of this life:

1. Start With Self-Compassion

Your thoughts and feelings are valid. Speak to yourself like you would a dear friend:

“This is hard. And I’m doing my best.”
“I can feel resentful and still be a loving mom.”
“I’m allowed to have needs.”

2. Find Spaces Where You Don’t Have to Explain

Support groups. Trauma-informed communities. Real-life or online spaces where the phrase “I get it” is genuine.

That’s why I created the Foster Mama Lifeline—so foster and adoptive moms would never have to justify their feelings or sanitize their struggles.

3. Use Tools That Ground You in the Hard Moments

Whether it’s a printable script, a journal page, or a text to someone who gets it—reaching for support in the moment is a sign of strength, not weakness.

You don’t have to fix it all today. You just have to care for yourself in it.

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Final Thoughts

If you’ve been carrying this tension silently—this love and this grief—I want you to know:

You are not alone.
You are not ungrateful.
You are not a bad mom.

You are doing something brave and beautiful and impossibly hard all at once.

Let’s stop pretending we’re fine when we’re fraying.
Let’s stop waiting until we break to ask for support.
Let’s start normalizing the truth that you can love your child and still say:

“This is hard. I need help.”

And if you’re ready for that help, I’ve created resources to walk with you:

• The First 30 Days Toolkit: trauma-informed support for the chaos

• The Calm & Connected Bundle: four core tools to ground you

• The Foster Mama Lifeline: a soft place to land when the system feels too loud

You are doing sacred work.
Let’s make sure you’re supported in it.

With you in it,
Cathleen