Keeping Children at the Centre — Not in the Middle — of Separation and Divorce
Note: In this piece, we use broad language about mums and dads. We know this doesn't reflect every family structure or dynamic — and that not all mothers mother the same, and not all fathers father the same. These patterns reflect common experiences but aren't universal.
Separation doesn’t just change the shape of your family. It reshapes your identity. It shifts your relationship with yourself and that with memories, home, and — sometimes painfully — with your children.
One of the biggest questions I’ve sat with (and supported many others through) is this:
How do we keep our children at the centre of this transition — without putting them in the middle of adult conflict? And — critically — how do we do this, even when the other parent is doing the opposite?
It may sound like the obvious approach, but it’s not always easy. Especially when the stakes are high, emotions are raw, and the structures meant to help — like family law — don’t always reflect the complexity, and reality, of what’s really going on inside families.
It’s Not Just About Time With The Children
When families separate, it’s easy for conversations — and often courtrooms — to fixate on time. Who gets how much. How it’s split. What’s “fair.” (And sadly, in the legal system, “fair” can sometimes trump safety and wellbeing.)
But children don’t experience time in halves or thirds. They experience connection, safety, and stability. They notice rhythm, familiarity, tone of voice, warmth, and calm. They know who brushes their hair the way they like it, who recognises their sleepy face, who senses when something’s off without being told.
Children thrive when there is stability, emotional attunement, and a felt sense of safety with their caregivers. And when those rhythms are disrupted — even with the best intentions — they feel it. In their bodies. In their sleep. In their behaviour.
This is why the transition into co‑parenting (or parallel parenting) doesn’t land equally for everyone. In many families, one parent has carried the emotional and logistical weight of caregiving more heavily — often, though not always, the mother. For that parent, the shift can bring profound loss, worry, and frustration (“How will this be for them?” “I can’t believe I have to tell the other parent the basics.”). There may also be relief — space to breathe — but it’s often accompanied by a quiet disorientation, a sense that something essential, for both the caregiver and the children, is no longer being fully seen or protected.
For the parent who may have been less involved day‑to‑day — often, though again not always, the father — separation can bring a genuine desire to connect more, to play a bigger role. Which can be a beautiful thing. But sometimes it fuels a strong push for “equal time” — even when the emotional and practical groundwork isn’t yet in place.
That push might come from love. It might come from fear or guilt. And sometimes it’s driven by conflict — a need to stay in control, to “win” the breakup, or to avoid being sidelined.
At Family Flow, we believe children need the opportunity for healthy relationships with both parents. But “healthy” can be elusive, and quantity of time doesn’t automatically equal quality time. What matters most is continuity of care, emotional safety, and protecting the bonds they rely on.
It’s about anchoring. When parenting plans are built around what the child truly needs — not just what each parent feels entitled to — we create space for healing, growth, and enduring connection.
It’s Not About You — And That’s Hard
Let’s name something that rarely gets spoken aloud: the role of ego.
Even the most loving, conscious parent can get swept up in fear or a sense of fairness — and when those take the wheel, they quietly shape our decisions. These thoughts often come from a place of hurt, fear of losing connection, or feeling pushed to the margins. It's completely human.
It’s helpful to take a big step back from the situation. When these feelings go unexamined, they can pull us away from what our children actually need.
Parenting post-separation requires a radical shift: from “what’s fair for me?” to “what’s best for them?”
When we fight over time, control or validation, our children absorb the conflict. Even if we think they’re shielded — they sense it. And they often feel caught in the middle, because they identify with both parents. Criticism of one can land like criticism of themselves.
There’s Often No ‘Co’ in Constructive Co-Parenting
Parents, vulnerable in the fallout of a relationship ending, can feel the burden of the co-parenting ideal. The one where everyone gets along, shares birthday photos, and works as a harmonious team. And sometimes, that’s possible — particularly when there’s still mutual respect and shared intentions.
But in high-conflict, power-imbalanced, or emotionally complicated separations, that kind of partnership isn’t realistic.
And that’s okay.
Constructive co-parenting doesn’t always mean two parents working closely together. Sometimes it means one parent holding their own line and doing things differently. It means staying consistent, communicating clearly and minimally, not retaliating, and shielding your children from adult dynamics — even when the other parent doesn’t.
That’s still co-parenting. Some might call it “parallel parenting,” but at Family Flow, we still see it as thoughtful, values-led parenting. Responsible, protective, and grounded. Even if it’s happening in a silo.
For us, it’s the quiet, boundary-honouring version of co-parenting — the kind that happens behind the scenes, in small, steady, everyday choices.
And it's the parenting that tells a child: “I will honour your emotional safety in this.” Which is all they need to sense.
What to Tell Them — and When?
This was one of the hardest parts for me. I spent years going round in circles, trying to figure out what to say to the children — and what to protect them from. I invested heavily in family therapy to help me think about things systemically — to get it right: to stay neutral, to avoid shaping their view of their dad, and to give them space to form their own experience.
But the truth is: children sense everything.
When they’re left completely in the dark, they often internalise what’s unsaid. They make up their own versions of the story. They feel anxious, confused, and sometimes responsible. Over time, I found that sharing some carefully chosen truths — as age-appropriate as possible, simple, and honest — actually helped them settle. It gave shape to what they already sensed, and took some of the emotional weight off their shoulders.
The key for me was this: how we tell the truth matters just as much as what we share. I often said something like:
“There are parts of Daddy that I’ve found difficult, and some choices he’s made that I haven’t agreed with. But there are wonderful parts to him too. And I see the best of both of us in you three.”
That framing helped them feel whole — not split. It gave them permission to love both parents, freely and fully.
You Can’t Control the Other Side — But You Can Model the Light
There is so much we can’t control post-separation. How the other parent behaves. What’s said behind closed doors. How time is divided. How the court views your role.
But there is so much we can choose.
We can choose how we show up. How we speak. How we regulate ourselves. How we shield our children from adult mess. How we centre their emotional safety over our own pride.
Because our children are always watching. And even when it feels like they’re being pulled or confused by the other side, they will feel your steadiness. Your warmth. Your grace.
They move toward the light.
If we model calm, compassion, and quiet integrity — especially when things feel unjust — that’s what they’ll remember. That’s what they’ll carry.
There’s one question I come back to again and again — in my own life, and with the parents I support:
“If I say/do/suggest this… who is it really for? Them, or me?”
It’s not always easy to tell. Sometimes it’s both. But when we stop and ask, it helps us parent from intention, not reaction. From clarity, not fear. And more often than not, it helps us choose the response that puts our children’s emotional safety first — even if our own ego is crying out for something else.
Children don’t need perfection. They need presence. They need one calm, grounded parent who helps them feel safe — and that’s enough.
What Helps?
Focus on what your child needs — not what feels fair to you
Honour attachment and consistency over clock-time
Share age-appropriate truths, without blame
Be the calm, consistent parent — even when it’s hard
Let your integrity do the talking
Remember: how you behave now is what your children will remember later
Divorce can be an ending. But it can also be a beginning — for you, and for your children. If we can keep them emotionally safe while we steady ourselves, there is real hope for a new kind of family: one shaped by healing, grace, and intention.
With love and support,
Susie
