No Amount of Money Can Replace You
Student – Hi Lama la, my husband and I are planning to go to Australia to study and work. Our initial plan was to leave our three-year-old son with my parents and, if we return after my studies, reunite with him then. Otherwise, we would consider bringing him to Australia once we secure jobs that can support his daycare and schooling. Our main goal is to build a better future for our family by earning and saving for our son and any future children. However, after reading a recent Kuensel article about the negative mental and emotional effects of leaving young children behind, we are rethinking our decision. I feel torn between providing financial stability and being physically present during these important early years of my son’s life. I’d appreciate Lama’s opinion on the matter la?
Master – The early years — roughly birth to five — are critical for emotional development. While a child raised with consistency and warmth by devoted grandparents can fare well, separation from parents at this age generally causes distress that has long-term effects on emotional security.
The money you send back will build a future, but your son is already building something right now — his sense of whether the world is safe, whether he is loved, and whether his parents are real. These two things are not easily traded against each other.
In truth, nothing can fully substitute for a parent’s love and presence. A child needs a loving and safe environment to develop into a well-adjusted and resilient adult — not high-tech gadgets, branded clothes, or an expensive education.
Erik Erikson, one of the most influential developmental psychologists of the twentieth century, recognised the first five years of a child’s life as the foundation on which everything else is built — with the parent at its core.
It begins in infancy with the most fundamental question any human being will ever ask: “Is the world safe?” The infant cannot reason his way to an answer. He can only receive one through the person who holds him, feeds him, and comes when he cries.
When that person responds with consistency and warmth, something deeper than comfort is transmitted. The child begins to internalise that he matters, that his needs are legitimate, and that life itself can be trusted.
This is not something even the most devoted caregiver can replicate. It is built through the irreplaceable bond with the person who loves him unconditionally.
As the child becomes a toddler, he begins to test his independence — touching, exploring, pushing back. What he needs at this stage is a parent who gives him room to venture out while remaining a steady presence behind him. When that balance is there, the child learns something simple but important: that he can try things, make mistakes, and still be safe. That confidence becomes the ground he stands on.
By ages three to five, his world opens further, and it will keep opening through adolescence, with each stage quietly asking the same question: “Is there someone there who sees me?” What he needs is a parent who notices him, responds to his questions, takes his feelings seriously, and meets his attempts to connect with warmth rather than indifference or criticism.
When he is met in this way, the child learns he matters. When he isn’t, he is likely to believe that he isn’t worthy of love. That conclusion does not remain confined to childhood; it carries into adult relationships, where he may withdraw from genuine warmth and, at times, feel drawn to people who seem exciting but lack real depth or empathy — relationships that can ultimately leave him wounded.
A child does not need a perfect parent, but he needs his parent — the person whose presence tells him, without words, that he is safe and unconditionally loved.
Dr. Gabor Maté, a trauma specialist, devoted his career to studying what happens when children’s emotional needs go unmet. His conclusion is simple and clear: when a child grows up without consistent emotional presence — whether through separation, a parent’s alcoholism, or a caregiver too absorbed in their own life — the brain learns to expect stress instead of safety, distance instead of connection. The child does not reason that his parents were unavailable; he decides that he is the problem.
That belief, if left unaddressed, becomes an unseen wound carried as a heavy burden into adulthood. The ways he may try to cope — through drugs, unhealthy relationships, gambling, work, pornography, or sex — are not character flaws, but attempts to soothe a pain that was never healed. While they may bring temporary comfort, they do not reach the root of the pain, which remains beneath the surface.
And this is where Maté’s work becomes particularly important, not just for parents, but for anyone shaping policy around human welfare.
When such distractions take the form of drug addiction, many societies respond by favouring punishment over understanding. In reality, incarcerating people rather than addressing the root causes reflects a failure of empathy and insight — one that borders on cruelty and is, quite frankly, heartbreaking — not least because it destroys a generation of young lives.
Anyway, to return to your question: the decision you face is genuinely difficult, and I fully empathize with you. What research suggests, and what Dr Maté’s and Erikson’s work makes clear, is that your son’s deepest need is for connection and presence. The harder question is whether there is a way for you to accommodate both your financial responsibilities and his need for emotional closeness; only you can decide that.