Every time I video-call my children in Nepal, I ask the same questions.
Have you eaten? How was school? Did you finish your homework?
We talk for a few minutes. Sometimes they tell me about something interesting that happened that day. Sometimes they are distracted. Sometimes I am.
Then we say goodbye. The screen goes dark. And I am left with a question I do not always know how to answer: Am I building my children’s future, or slowly removing myself from their childhood?
My wife and I went to Australia with a dream shared by many Nepali parents: better education, greater financial security and a better life for our children.
Like many parents living abroad, we have repeated the same reassuring sentence to ourselves: We are doing all this for the children.
And perhaps we are.
But I have also begun to understand an uncomfortable truth: a decision made out of love is not automatically the right decision for a child’s emotional needs.
When the future becomes more important than the present
Adults are naturally drawn to the future. We plan careers, save money and think about education, visas, housing and financial security. We tell ourselves that the sacrifices we make today will benefit our children tomorrow.
Children experience time differently.
For a child, a year is not simply a year. It can be a significant part of a life. Adults may think, “We will be together soon.” A child may experience that same period as another birthday without a parent, another school event without them, another Dashain celebrated through a screen.
We measure the future in plans. Children, however, measure the present through presence.
Think about the small moments children remember: a friend’s mother picking them up from school, a father attending a parent day, a parent watching them perform on stage, someone being there on their birthday, or a hand placed gently on their head during the Dashain tika.
We can send new clothes from abroad. We can transfer money for a birthday cake. We can buy gifts and make sure school fees are paid. But a new dress sent from another country is not the same as sitting beside a child while they try it on.
Money for a birthday cake is not the same as standing beside them while they blow out the candles. Technology can bring our faces closer, but it cannot bring the warmth of an embrace.
What attachment tells us
Child-development research offers another way to think about this.
Attachment theory, developed through the work of John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth, stresses the importance of a reliable caregiver as a secure base from which children can explore the world.
That does not mean that every child separated from a parent will experience psychological problems.
Many Nepali children grow up happily with grandparents, relatives, or other caregivers. Our extended-family system can be an extraordinary strength. Grandparents and relatives often provide the love, stability and care that allow children to thrive.
But we should also acknowledge something more difficult: one kind of love does not completely replace another.
A grandparent can provide warmth and security. A relative can be deeply involved in a child’s life. A child can feel safe and loved while still missing their mother or father. These realities can exist at the same time.
Children may not always have the words to say, “I miss you.” Instead, their feelings may emerge in other ways: increased anger, unusual silence, changes in school performance, disrupted sleep, reluctance to talk on the phone or even physical complaints.
We should not automatically assume that parental separation is the cause. Children go through many changes as they grow. But persistent changes should not simply be dismissed.
Teachers, doctors, school counsellors and child psychologists can help when concerns continue.
There is also a danger in assuming that a child who seems unusually mature is necessarily unaffected. Sometimes, maturity is adaptation.
A child may simply have learned to hide their feelings because they do not want to make their parents worry.
The invisible debt children should never have to carry
There is another part of this conversation that deserves more attention.
Parents who migrate often make enormous sacrifices. They work long hours, live away from their families and endure loneliness because they believe they are securing a better future for their children. But when children repeatedly hear, “We sacrificed everything for you,” those sacrifices can sometimes become an emotional burden. A child may begin to feel that they owe their parents something in return — that they must study hard, succeed, fulfil the dreams their parents carried abroad and, perhaps most importantly, never complain.
But the decision to migrate was an adult decision. Our children do not have to repay our sacrifices, and they do not have to fulfil our dreams to deserve our love. Perhaps we should tell them instead: “We made this decision for our family. It is not your responsibility.” That distinction matters.
Whenever conversations like this arise, there is often another response: “It was your decision. Deal with it.”
There is some truth in that. Parents must take responsibility for the decisions they make. We cannot expect sympathy to erase the consequences of those decisions.
But responsibility and silence are not the same thing.
If thousands of Nepali families are making similar choices — parents going abroad while their children remain at home — then these experiences are no longer only individual stories. They are part of a wider social reality. Talking about that reality is not self-pity. It is a form of social self-reflection.
We should be able to ask difficult questions without turning them into accusations. A decision can be understandable, necessary or made out of love, and we can still ask whether its consequences are working for the child.
The purpose is not to condemn parents who leave. Nor is it to justify every decision simply because it was made out of love.
The question is simpler, and perhaps more difficult: What can we do differently now?
What can parents living abroad do?
There is no single solution to the pain of separation. Every family is different. Financial realities, immigration rules, education and caregiving arrangements all matter. But there are things parents can do.
Do not allow separation to become indefinite
“Next year.” “After the visa.” “After my studies.” “After we save a little more.”
Plans like these can quietly turn two years into five. If reunification is the goal, it requires more than good intentions. Families need a realistic plan, some sense of a timeline and regular moments when they can ask themselves whether that plan is still working. The future should not always be the reason the present is postponed.
Do not confuse phone calls with parenting
Calling your child every day is valuable, but the quality of those conversations matters too. Instead of always asking, “Did you eat?”, “Did you do your homework?” or “How were your studies?”, sometimes ask different questions: What made you happy today? Did anything upset you? What are you missing most these days? If I were there today, what would we do together?
Questions like these give children room to talk about their emotional world, rather than simply report whether they have completed their responsibilities.
Research on early childhood development often emphasizes the importance of responsive interaction — paying attention to a child’s signals and responding to them. In that sense, even a short conversation can become meaningful when a parent is genuinely present rather than distracted. Fifteen minutes of real attention can sometimes mean more than an hour of a distracted call.
Listen to each child individually
Families sometimes assume that the older child needs less attention because they appear more responsible. But an older child is still a child. They may be helping with younger siblings, doing well in school and appearing independent while quietly missing their parents. Maturity should not become a reason to overlook emotional needs.
Do not mistake anger for ingratitude
A child can be angry with you and still love you. They can appreciate everything you provide and still be unhappy that you are not there. Those feelings are not contradictions.
Parents still need to set boundaries around behaviour, but the feeling itself should not automatically be dismissed as disrespect. Sometimes the most helpful response is simply, “I understand that you are angry. Tell me why.”
Do not use gifts as a substitute for presence
There is nothing wrong with sending gifts. Children enjoy them, and gifts can be a meaningful expression of affection. But they cannot carry the entire weight of a relationship.
A handwritten letter, a story read together over a call, looking through old family photographs or simply talking about an ordinary day can create a deeper connection than an expensive toy.
Respect the people caring for your children
Grandparents and relatives who stay behind often carry the daily responsibilities of raising a child. They deal with school mornings, meals, illnesses, homework and discipline.
Parents abroad and caregivers at home should not compete over who knows the child better or who loves them more. They are on the same side. The child needs both.
Stay involved in the ordinary parts of your child’s life
Paying school fees is important. Sending money for food and clothing is important. But parenting is more than providing financially.
Know your child’s teacher. Join school meet
Nobody is perfect
Donald Winnicott’s idea of the “good enough parent” offers an important perspective here. Children do not need perfect parents. They need parents who are sufficiently reliable, who recognize when they have made mistakes and who are willing to reconnect and repair.
That matters to parents living abroad because guilt can easily become overwhelming. But guilt alone does not help a child. Learning does. Changing does. Reconnecting does.
We cannot undo every decision we have made. We cannot bring back every birthday we missed or every school event we could not attend. But we can decide what happens next.
I do not write this as a perfect father. I have been distracted. I have been tired. I have sometimes ended calls sooner than I should have. And I have used the familiar justification: “We are doing all this for the children.”
But I am beginning to ask myself what that sentence really means.
If we are truly doing this for our children, then their emotional needs cannot always be something we promise to address later. The future we are working so hard to build for them should not come at the cost of the childhood they are living now.
