Fork Tender

Growing up, not being much of a cook, I wasn't familiar with this term until just a few years ago. Using common sense, most could deduce what this term means--holding form and being firm on the outside but when speared, mush on the inside. Last week's visitation for Baby and her mom left me reeling from the fact that I, in all actuality, am fork tender.

I have a gruff and snippy tendency that I try, poorly, I'll admit, to mask in most situations but that's only covering up a big blob of feelings inside. Deep, deep down, most might confuse me with Mother Teresa. I joke! But really, I am, if nothing, a compassionate person.

It's really hard to explain why Wednesdays leave me feeling so broken down. I wonder if some of these feelings are just isolated to me or if most foster parents feel the same way. The ones I have talked to have had very disinterested birth parents so blessed is Baby that her mom still wants to be a part of her life but with that comes more face-to-face interactions for me and more confusing feelings. I'm sad for her mom, I'm sad for Baby, I'm mad at her mom, I'm jealous of her mom (that she gets to waltz in and be a two hour hero while I'm doing the day-to-day), I feel used, I resent Baby (for being so demanding at times that she takes me away from my own children), I love Baby, I don't want to love her too much...truly, these are things that course through my head all the time. Am I treating her fairly? Am I treating mine fairly? Could we take the new little brother coming in two weeks? Would I even want to if I could? What if rights get terminated? Would we adopt her? I'm just a mess. Six days out of the week, I know what our normal is even if I torture myself with some of these questions but that one bloody day throws it all out of whack. And when she came back the last time, she wouldn't smile at me or even establish eye contact with me that evening. Forget kisses or hugs. I figured that once she went to bed, she'd wake up smiley again, forgetting that confusing mess. But she didn't and, when she would look at me, it was with those same questioning eyes she had when we first got her in January. I wondered aloud to Brent if I was just being overly sensitive about it but then the daycare workers commented to him about it unsolicited. I feel like it took about 48 hours and prayers being lifted up to get back to normal so of course I'm anxious about tomorrow (if we still will have visitation as storms have knocked power out all over town). I need to do more praying about this and, for now, limit my face time with the birth mom till I get my head/heart on straight.