Dangerous

A long time ago when I first started being the foster mom, I was better at remembering that this child has a family (not my family).  I was better at thinking of my core family as a unique unit separate from the whole of the family that included foster little.  It was a dance, but I had a mental separation that kept me in my foster mom role.

It wasn't that I didn't love, I did.  It wasn't that I didn't nurture, I did.  I advocated, loved, nurtured, investigated needs, fulfilled needs, loved, cared, and was the everyday mom.    But I kept a wall around the forever part of my heart.  It was there to protect me.  I felt safe with that wall in place. Like I would be able to survive being a foster parent.

Lately though I feel like someone handed the little one a pick ax or crow bar or sledge hammer and told him to whack away at my wall.  I can't find it anymore.  Forever, for now, it's all mixed up in my heart. Little one has snuck in and made a place in the forever part of my heart.  

Maybe it was the middle of the night stuff.  Maybe it was the passage of time.  Maybe it was watching the baby who came to me turn into a happy, healthy toddler.  Maybe it was when the talking started, and I became "Momma".  Maybe it was when the snuggles into my neck started, or the sloppy toddler kisses.  Maybe it was when the running hug began at daycare pick up time.  Maybe it was the soft dinner time prayers offered by a toddler again years after my forever kids left toddlerhood.  But somewhere around the 12 month or 15 month or 18 month mark my wall disappeared.  

It's gone. 
 (maybe it really always was, and I was kidding myself) 

This is a dangerous love.