reposted with permission from the author – he became a distance parent in September 2011 when he moved back to his home country, England. His son is 4.

I was looking on google for a forum for long distance parents. Over the past 3 months I have been slowly adjusting to a new life thousands of miles from my son. I am English and have recently moved back to the UK from South America where my son lives with his mum.

I feel desperately sad at times. I worry a lot about my very nearly 4 year old son. From the sounds of it, he is quite depressed at times, biting his nails a lot. I am seeking a community because last night I got a quite upset email from his mum telling me that at the moment things are especially hard. My son had his last day at nursery this week – another loss for him.

I make some kind of contact with him every day, either through Skype, telephone or by sending a little email with some pictures. I find these things help me, and sometimes my son seems to like them too. Sometimes I think Skype frustrates him a lot. While reading a picture book to him the other day he said to me ‘you can’t read it properly when you’re not here’.

Generally I find reading and books to be a good way of connecting. I try to make our Skype sessions fun, if that… (More)

I haven’t posted here in awhile.  Truth be told, I view this site (and accompanying Facebook page) as an uplifting support system, ripe with extremely valuable insight and optimistic outlooks and advice on how best to make the most of a very trying situation.  I love how all involved help to lift each other up, give advice and share their own stories.  It’s a virtual home of hope and support, all in such a wonderful vein of positivity.

I guess lately, I’ve felt that I can’t add too much of that hopeful outlook, as I’ve been struggling as my little girl has started Kindergarten, and that changed the dynamic quite a bit for me.  I still try to call her every single day (my work Outlook Calendar is still blocked for 30 minutes every afternoon for the task).  But more and more phone calls go unanswered.  More and more text messages go unreturned.  Each unreciprocated attempt feels like another kick in the gut, to the point where I have come to not expect a connection, but rather that vacant sound of the generic voicemail voice, prompting me, yet again, to leave a message – a message that I’ll inevitably wonder if my little girl ever heard, or paid too much attention to, in light of all else that is going on in her life; a life that I feel more and more distanced from.

I don’t want to paint a portrait of desperation or despair.  As mentioned, I’ve come to… (More)

For most of the past two years I have been living 1,100 miles away from my beloved children. The decision to move far away from them did not come easily but I have had to live with it every day since then. I have tried very hard to soothe myself with the fact that they live in my ex-wife’s hometown, a small place with very few job opportunities and where, for more than eight years, I struggled to earn a living and to make friends. I know that my life there was mostly unhappy and unfulfilling but, when my ex-wife and I were together, I at least could comfort myself in knowing that I could enjoy spending time with my kids every day.

When I agreed to move to my ex-wife’s hometown 10 years ago, I did so with an open mind and a sense of adventure. We had just gotten married and were leaving behind a lot of stress and strain. For one thing, we both worked in downtown Washington, DC, and the horror of 9/11 was fresh in our minds. For another, we had just survived a nightmare scenario, in which my whole extended family went to war with us over our wedding plans, which were apparently not in line with their highfalutin standards. The idea of raising our family in a tidy little New England village near the ocean seemed quite seductive at the time. I would find a job, and she would stay home and raise… (More)

Last night, as my son and I sat at the counter nomming strawberries, we were talking about him writing his first words (‘dog’, ‘god’, and ‘no’) and I was able to relate the story to him about his first written words and how proud he was of them. He was 4 when he wrote them and he wrote them in a chat window during internet visitation with me. Now 11, he giggled and asked for more details. in the same way he’s asked about his first steps or for me to tell him about how I met his dad. It’s a memory just like all the rest – even though it happened over internet chat during a time when I couldn’t be there with him.

Seven years ago, I wrote this post about experiencing my son’s firsts via webcam. I’d completely forgotten that I’d blogged about it, as I was having that conversation last night with my son. But in re-reading the post, I remember how ecstatic I was that I got to witness a ‘first’ (and got screen prints!) even though I was far away. I remember how MUCH I needed those small moments to reassure me that I was still connected with him and that our relationship was meaningful.

My son was only 5 at the time. In kindergarten. I remember having that ‘ideal’ picture in my mind of what the perfect long distance situation would be like. He’d look forward to talking to me and… (More)

Allie: O;)??i?$73

Me: Hi sweetheart, how is your day?

Allie: Gsksjsofjfjserr

Me: Are you ready for your birthday? I can’t believe you’re going to be 5!!!

Allie: Gwygegeyeu Bhhdydhsydhdydh

Me: I love you, Princess. XOXO

Allie: I. Love. You. Daddy

And that is roughly what 99% of my text message communications with my daughter look like. Typically just a string of nonsensical characters, only rarely forming any word you’d find in the English language, let alone a complete thought (although occasionally she transcribes to someone else to type her thoughts for her – makes for an easier flow of conversation, but much less personal). She’s getting better though. As you can see, she does know how to read/write some words, including those most important to me – I, Love, You and Daddy.

I have many instances where I feel that although what she sends is gibberish, it’s some of the most important and reflective sentiments that I’ll hear from anyone all day. After all, it’s not the sequence or selection of characters that she chooses to send me (one could argue that some of my messages are just as incoherent at times), it’s that she sends me anything at all that melts my heart; that she’s thinking of me. It’s those unexpected, unsolicited messages that pop up out of nowhere that light up my face no matter where I am or… (More)