If You're Really Staying "For the Kids," Then Grow For Them

Marwaan Fredericks
Apr 23
2 min read

Updated: Apr 24

*"Staying 'for the kids' only works if you're growing for them. Otherwise you're not protecting them - you're teaching them how to endure dysfunction."*

Let’s stop pretending.

When people say they’re staying in a broken marriage for the children, what they often mean is: "I’d rather endure this slow suffocation than do the terrifying work of looking at myself."

Because here’s the truth—marriage doesn’t complete you. It reveals you.

And what it shows isn’t always flattering:

That temper you blame on stress? That’s yours.
That silent resentment you nurse? That’s you too.
That emotional withdrawal? Oh, that’s definitely you.

So before you pat yourself on the back for "sacrificing," ask yourself: "Am I staying out of love—or am I staying out of fear?"

"Staying for the Kids" Is a Lie If You’re Not Growing for Them

We tell ourselves we’re martyrs. That we’re enduring a lifeless marriage for their sake.

But kids aren’t stupid. They see the tension. They hear the silence. They absorb the resentment like emotional sponges.

And what are they learning?

That love means quiet misery.
That conflict is something to avoid, not resolve.
That marriage is a prison sentence, not a partnership.

So no, you’re not protecting them. You’re teaching them how to endure dysfunction.

The Only Way Staying "For the Kids" Makes Sense

If you’re going to stay, then actually stay.

Not just in body—but in effort, in humility, in willingness to grow.

Instead of: "We’re staying for the kids." Say: "We’re growing for them."

That means:

Facing your flaws instead of obsessing over your partner’s.
Doing the work—therapy, honest talks, self-reflection.
Modeling real love—not just two people sharing a home, but two people choosing each other daily.

Because here’s the truth—kids don’t need perfect parents. They need parents who are willing to try.

Why We Avoid This Work (And How to Start)

Growth is terrifying. It means admitting you are part of the problem. It means sitting in discomfort instead of numbing out. It means looking at the parts of yourself you’ve ignored for years.

And yes—it’s easier to play the martyr. To say, "I’m staying for the kids," while secretly resenting every moment. But that’s not sacrifice. That’s cowardice.

The Choice That Actually Matters

If you’re going to stay—then fight for the marriage. Not just the illusion of it. And fighting for the marriage means you going to nurture it to something more beautiful than what it is now.