Mother's Day as a Foster Mom

Mother’s Day has always felt… complicated.

Not because there wasn’t love—there was. So much love. It showed up in bedtime snuggles, whispered prayers, lego towers, and the quiet moments of triumph when a hard day ended in a smile.
But Mother’s Day was layered.

It was layered with the ache of not knowing. Where was she now—his biological mom? What was her story? Was she thinking of him today, too?

My son had asked again this morning. “Do you think she has blue eyes like me?”

I smiled and looked at the picture he had drawn of us. Our eyes matched—his idea, not mine. “I think God gave you those blue eyes so I could see a little piece of myself in you,” I said, trying to answer a question far too big for a six-year-old heart.

There’s a sacredness in this kind of motherhood. A sacredness that includes celebrating what is, while honoring what was—even when it’s unknown or painful.

Parenting him is not always easy. His recent diagnoses have forced me to relearn everything I thought I knew about motherhood. I’ve had to search out resources, reach out for help, let go of pride, and lean into a new rhythm of grace and grit. It’s messy. It’s holy. And some days, it’s really hard.
But then, there’s that picture.

Two people drawn in crayon with matching blue eyes and a bond you can feel from the paper. It reminds me that even when Mother’s Day doesn’t feel like balloons and brunches, it can still be meaningful.

To every adoptive and foster mom navigating this road—this is sacred work. Even when the day is hard, you are doing something beautiful. You are showing up. You are making a difference not only in your child’s life, but God is gently, steadily, making a difference in yours.
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And that? That, my friend, is worth celebrating.

By Lisa McGinnett, Western Slope Director