Parenting Through Big Change: What Our Kids Really Need When Life Shifts

This summer, our family moved countries, leaving Portugal and driving over 3,000 kilometers north to Sweden. We chose to take our time, stretching out the journey slowly instead of rushing through it. We wanted it to be a rite of passage, not just a trip from point A to point B.

That choice, to drive, to be present, to witness the unfolding, was transformative. It gave me space to process the grief of what we were leaving behind: the golden light of late afternoons, the ocean air, the amazing friendships, and the rhythm of a place that had become home.

But as we crossed into new landscapes, something unexpected happened. As the vegetation began to shift, more pine trees and deeper greens, everything somehow started to feel strangely familiar. Like our years in the Pacific Northwest. Like home, in a new shape.

And something in me softened.

Our daughters, curled up in the backseat, noticed too. 

The excitement bubbled up.

The newness became an adventure.

And just like that, they embraced this new country, not with fear, but with curiosity and wide-open hearts.

That simple act of noticing, of choosing to be awake to the journey, marked the beginning of our new life. It reminded me how much our mindset, emotional presence, and willingness to embrace what is shape everything for our children.

The Quiet Questions We Carry as Parents 

The home I leave behind, Portugal, is home to a wonderfully diverse expat community. Families from every corner of the world have landed there, looking for something new, something better, perhaps slower, or more aligned with the life they want to build. And my journey to a new country got me thinking about the parents I had interacted with and worked with in Portugal, parents navigating the same tender questions that had, for a while, become my own. 

Did I do the right thing for my kids? Will they resent me for this move? Was their life richer, fuller, more predictable before we left?

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard these questions in my coaching work. Often from a parent who’s done something brave, someone who is starting over, or choosing a new chapter.

There’s often a deep desire to recreate what once was: 

The familiar routines

The after-school activities

The friendships

The language

The belonging

And when that doesn’t happen quickly, easily, or at all, doubt and guilt start knocking.

It’s the Parent.

Over and over again, when we pause long enough to unpack what’s underneath, we find it’s not the kids who are struggling the most. It’s the parent. 

It’s the weight of our own adjustment. The quiet grief of all that was left behind. The fear of not getting it quite right. And the overwhelm of trying to hold space for every emotion our child is expressing, without falling apart ourselves.

That’s a lot to carry. And it makes sense.

Still, something remarkable happens when a parent begins to root themselves in their new life, when they soften into uncertainty and choose to meet the changes with openness instead of resistance.

The children follow.

The Energy Our Kids Are Tuning Into

Children calibrate to the energy around them. They find their own rhythm in the in-between. And with time, they surprise you with how well they bloom.

Children don’t need everything to be perfect. They just need us to be okay. Not performatively okay. But genuinely…

Settling. Adjusting. Breathing through it. Finding our own joy in the new.

Because that’s what gives our kids permission to do the same.

And yet, so often I hear parents say things like:

I don’t talk about it in front of them.
I’ve kept it together for their sake.

But here’s the thing. We don’t have to speak our grief for it to shape the atmosphere around us. Kids feel it. They can sense when we're not fully present, when we're trying to stay strong but haven’t given ourselves the space to fall apart, even just a little. They tune into our nervous systems long before they understand what’s being said. That means if we’re tense, anxious, or quietly grieving the life we left behind, they’re likely carrying some of that too.

True strength isn’t in pretending we’re fine, it’s in showing them how to walk through change with honesty and grace.

They Learn by Watching Us Land

The most powerful shifts I’ve seen in families rarely come from finding the perfect new school, the right judo class, or friends who speak their language. They come when the parent gives themselves permission to land. To actually arrive.

And sometimes, that might look like:

• Naming your own discomfort out loud.

• Letting your child see you not have all the answers, and still be okay.

• Getting lost while driving on new, unfamiliar streets and patiently finding your way.

• Inviting them into curiosity rather than control.

• Modeling how to start over, with grace and courage.

In these moments, when parents allow themselves to be fully in the process, something beautiful happens. They accept that adjusting takes time. They embrace the unknown. They lead with presence.

And the children? They grow braver when they see you, the parent, being real.

You don’t have to do it all perfectly. But you do have to arrive. Fully. Slowly. With eyes open and heart present.

We need to let our kids see us settle. They need to see us bloom in the unfamiliar. Let them see you begin again, with courage and compassion for yourself.

That’s the kind of presence that gives them roots.

That’s the kind of presence that teaches them how to grow wings.

When a parent is grounded and open to the newness, when they’re able to meet the change with curiosity instead of fear, something shifts. And kids feel it. They calibrate to the energy, and more often than not, they adjust beautifully.

Rooting Ourselves So Our Kids Can Bloom

When we undergo big life changes, like moving countries, we’re not just packing boxes and changing addresses. We’re unraveling one life while stepping into another. It’s easy to focus on logistics, routines, and making sure the kids are “okay.” But underneath it all, we’re going through a transition, too. 

We’re adjusting. Letting go. Beginning again.

If you’re moving, returning from a summer spent in your “back home home” (as I like to call your place of origin), or navigating a big transition in this season of your life, here are some prompts to hold space for you. To invite your voice into the story. To help you land, not just physically, but emotionally and energetically, so your children can feel the ground beneath them, too.

There’s no rush. Let each question meet you with kindness. Come back to them as many times as you need, because the more you anchor into yourself, the more rooted your family becomes.

Reflection Prompts

1. What are you grieving about the life (or previous season) you left behind?

What parts of that chapter still tug at your heart? What did you love? What felt safe or sacred that you haven’t yet said goodbye to?

2. Where have you been trying to “hold it all together” for your kids?

What might shift if you stopped holding so tightly? What are you afraid would happen if you let yourself be more real, softer, more human?

3. What signs of belonging or beauty have already started to show up in this new place/season?

Have you noticed any small moments that feel like “home”? What do you see, hear, smell, or feel that reminds you, you are arriving?

4. What emotions have you been avoiding or pushing aside?

What would happen if you sat with those feelings, just for a moment, instead of running from them? What might they want you to know?

5. What energy are you bringing into your home right now?

What tone or rhythm are you setting for your days? Are you leading with curiosity, presence, and openness, or with fear, urgency, or overwhelm?

6. What do you need more of to feel grounded and supported in this season?

What can you give yourself, this week, even today, that helps you land more fully in this life you’re building?

7. Years from now, what do you want your children to remember about how you walked through this change together?

What story do you want them to carry, not just about the move, but about you? About how you showed up for yourself, and for them?