And lately, I’ve been hearing a lot of them
I’ve been talking to children of separated parents. Some are friends. Others are complete strangers who found me through this page. People who chose to share pieces of their childhood with me. Memories. Pain. Things they still carry with them today. And among different stories, different ages, and completely different families, one idea keeps coming up again and again.
Almost all of them remember the feeling of having to leave one home when they didn’t want to. That’s what they mention most often.
Even when they loved both parents. Even when they felt loved. Even when everything seemed to be “working well” in the eyes of the adults.
They remember the rigid schedules. The assigned days. The mandatory transitions. The packed bags. The decisions made by others about where they had to be, even on the days when their hearts wanted something different.
And it’s made me think a lot.
Because we, as adults, have a deep need to organize pain. To create rules. Routines. Calendars. We try to do everything “the right way.” And I understand that. I also understand that stability matters. Children need security, predictability, and structure. Of course they do.
But perhaps there’s a difference between providing stability and taking away emotional space.
One of the messages that touched me the most came from a young woman who told me that her parents had always been very flexible after their separation. There were years when she was supposed to spend Christmas with one parent, but she and her brother wanted to be with the other. And their parents allowed it. Without guilt. Without conflict. Without making their children feel as though they were choosing between their mother and father.
She told me there were periods when she needed her mother more. Others when she felt closer to her father. And what she remembers most fondly isn’t the custody agreement her parents had in court. It’s the fact that she felt heard.
And I received so many messages just like that.
Children who are now adults and still remember the sadness of having to leave home “because it was the scheduled day,” even when they wanted to stay a little longer. Even when they were tired. Sad. Or simply needed that particular comfort a little more at that moment.
And I think that says a lot.
Because adapting to a separation is already an enormous process for a child. Their whole world changes. Their home changes. Their routines change. Sometimes even the way they see love changes. And perhaps, in the middle of so much change imposed by life, there are small ways we can give them space to feel who they are and what they need, too.
That doesn’t mean letting a child dictate the lives of the adults around them. It doesn’t mean placing decisions on their shoulders that aren’t theirs to make. It doesn’t mean a lack of boundaries. Or a lack of structure.
It simply means listening to them.
Respecting their pace. Their personality. The fact that there are days when they need their mother more. Others when they need their father more. Days when they may simply need to feel that their opinion matters too, in the middle of a change they never chose.
Because sometimes, as parents, we talk a lot about children’s ability to adapt. And it’s true. They do adapt. They almost always do.
But perhaps we also need to adapt to them throughout this process. And perhaps parenting after separation is exactly that: understanding that not everything that looks balanced on paper necessarily feels balanced in a child’s heart.
And perhaps a child who feels heard grows up far more secure than a child who simply learned how to follow a schedule.
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