This page is the hardest part of this site to write, and probably the hardest part for some of you to read. I am not going to soften it. Vendredi is dead, and I have nothing left to lose by telling you the truth.
If you are a parent, a stepparent, a grandparent, an aunt, or anyone with a child caught between adults who cannot get along — please read this slowly, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.
Your conflict is more dangerous than you think.
Children growing up in homes where the adults are at war with each other — even quietly, even politely — carry weight you cannot see. They learn to keep secrets. They learn to perform for whichever parent they are with. They learn that love is conditional, that home is unstable, and that the adults who are supposed to protect them cannot even protect themselves from each other.
That is not normal childhood. That is constant low-level trauma. And over years, it adds up to depression, anxiety, self-harm, addiction, and the kind of hopelessness that takes children's lives.
You may think your child is "doing fine." Many of us thought that until we were wrong.
Stop using your child as a weapon.
Stop asking them to relay messages. Stop pumping them for information about the other house. Stop denying visitation because you are angry. Stop badmouthing the other parent in front of them or to them. Stop making them choose. Stop using their birthday, their grades, their love, their time as leverage.
Your child is not a battlefield. Your child is a person.
Stop making your child responsible for adult conflict.
If your child has to manage your emotions, mediate your fights, comfort you when you have lost an argument with the other parent, or take care of you when you are crying — you have made them the adult. That is not their job. They do not have the equipment for it. They will collapse under it, and you may not see it until they are gone.
Let your child love both parents — when it is safe to.
If the other parent is not a danger, let your child love them. Without your eye-rolls. Without your sighs. Without your sarcasm. Without your subtle "be careful over there." Children do not have to choose. Children should not have to choose.
If the other parent is a real danger — abuse, addiction that puts your child at risk, mental illness untreated and unsafe — that is different, and it is real. Document everything and protect your child. But do not invent danger that is not there because you are angry. The cost of that lie is paid by the child, not by you.
Watch for depression after custody changes.
Every disruption — a move, a new school, a lost parent, a stepparent moving in, a sibling leaving — is a loss for the child, even when it is the right decision overall. Children grieve quietly. Watch for the signs. Withdrawal. Sleep changes. Falling grades. Anger that comes from nowhere. Sudden cheerfulness that does not match what is happening.
Custody transitions are predictable risk windows.
If your child has ever shown distress around a transition — refusal to go, sudden silence, behavior changes, anxiety in the days leading up — that pattern is information, not manipulation. Children who struggle during custody transitions often struggle more around the next one, not less.
Watch the calendar. Mark the dates. The days before, during, and after a transition are when vigilance should be highest. If your child has ever been in crisis around a particular handoff — a Thanksgiving break, a summer move, the first week back at the other house — expect that same window in the future to be tender.
When your child says "I don't want to go," do not assume manipulation. Sit with them. Ask why. Listen for what is underneath. Sometimes it is normal teenage resistance. Sometimes it is a cry you may only get to hear once.
If the other parent is safe and the visit is required by court, your child still needs to go. But how you prepare them, who you communicate with at the other house, what safety checks you put in place, and what you watch for when they return — all of that is in your control. Communicate with the other parent during transitions if you can do so safely. Set a check-in time. Make sure your child has a phone. Make sure they know you are reachable if anything goes wrong.
The transitions are predictable. Use that.
Take self-harm seriously.
Cutting is not attention-seeking. Self-harm is the body's way of saying what the mouth cannot. If you discover it, do not punish. Do not minimize. Do not promise to keep it secret. Get them to a counselor who works with adolescents, and do not stop until you find someone they trust.
Document everything.
Calendars. Photos. Texts. Voicemails. School pickup dates. Doctor visits. Receipts. Not because you are paranoid — because the record is the only thing that survives a hostile family court, and the record is what your child will look back on one day to know that you were there.
Ask for a guardian ad litem when you need one.
If the custody situation has gone sideways and your child is suffering, ask the court to appoint a guardian ad litem — a third party whose only job is to represent the child's interests. They are not perfect, but they exist, and they have saved children.
Fathers: do not disappear.
I know how tired you are. I know how many calls have gone unanswered, how many cards have come back unopened, how many holidays have been taken from you, how many courtrooms have looked through you. I know what it costs to keep showing up after years of being told you don't matter.
Show up anyway.
Keep paying. Keep calling. Keep sending the card. Keep showing up. Be findable. Even if your child cannot see you yet, your steadiness is the thing she will look back on one day and recognize for what it was. A child can always find a father who never stopped being findable.
Do not assume that control equals protection.
Just because you have primary custody, just because you control the schedule, just because the courts back you up — none of that means your child is safe. The same systems that protect you legally can become invisible to what is happening inside the home you control.
A child can be fed, clothed, housed, and slowly destroyed at the same time. The questions you should be asking yourself are not "Is my child fed?" but "Is my child seen? Heard? Safe in their own body? Safe in their own mind?"
If you have cut the other parent out of decisions, you have also cut out a second set of eyes. That is a choice. Live with it honestly.
Intervene before the funeral.
Too many of you only learn the family was in crisis at the memorial service. You knew the marriage was struggling. You knew the custody was hostile. You knew the child was withdrawing. You said nothing because it was uncomfortable.
The day after the funeral, you will wish you had said it. Say it now.
If you are a pastor reading this and there is a family in your congregation whose conflict is wrapping itself around a child — speak. Visit. Pray with them. Push them toward counseling. Push them toward each other. Push them to put the child first. Be the inconvenient voice of God in their living room before God meets that child in a way you did not pray for.
You are allowed to say something.
If you are a friend, neighbor, teacher, coach, aunt, or anyone who sees a child caught between fighting adults — you are allowed to say something. You are allowed to ask. You are allowed to stay close. Sometimes the only adult a child will trust is the one not in the war.
Be that adult. The cost of speaking up is awkwardness. The cost of staying silent is sometimes a child's life.