THE PARENTING WE DON’T TALK ABOUT.

The other day, I found myself sitting quietly, wondering what it truly means to co-parent in our Kenyan society, or perhaps more broadly, within an African setting. The term itself sounds simple, almost ideal: two people raising children together despite no longer being together. In theory, it speaks of maturity, compromise, and putting the child or children first.

But does it really work that way here?

Out of curiosity, I began reading and researching how co-parenting works in other parts of the world, especially in Western societies. I realized that in many cases, it succeeds because both people are willing to sit down, communicate, and prioritize the emotional and physical well-being of the child or children over their personal differences. There is logic, structure, and mutual understanding involved.

And then I looked around me.

What I have mostly witnessed in our society is something entirely different.

I have seen mothers endlessly dragged through courts because the father claims he has been denied access to the child or children. I have also seen fathers struggling with mothers who use children as weapons out of bitterness or unresolved pain. But in all this, I keep asking myself one question: what does it truly mean when someone says, “I want to see my child or children”?

Because surely, seeing your child or children goes beyond appearances or occasional visits.

Seeing your child or children means participating in their lives fully. It means contributing to their welfare, school fees, medical care, clothing, emotional support, and the small everyday needs that come with raising a child. It means showing up for school meetings, sports days, academic progress, and those quiet moments when a child simply needs reassurance from a parent.

It means spending quality time with them during weekends or holidays, depending on whatever agreement exists, whether court-ordered or mutually agreed upon. It means consistency. Presence. Responsibility.

But sadly, not everyone approaches co-parenting with those intentions.

What I have witnessed in some situations is people using “co-parenting” as a disguise for something else entirely. Some return maliciously, not because they genuinely want to be involved in the child’s or children's life, but because they want to monitor the other person’s life. To see whether they moved on. Whether they found love again. Whether they are happy.

Others use the child or children as leverage to manipulate, control, or financially frustrate the other parent. In some situations, the behavior becomes so toxic and narcissistic that the chaos no longer affects only the two adults; it spills over onto the child.

And children notice everything.

They notice the tension.

The inconsistency.

The disappointment.

The emotional instability.

Sometimes I think adults forget that children may be young, but they are deeply observant. They absorb emotions, silence, conflict, and rejection more than we realize.

Perhaps that is why some people choose solo parenting instead.

Not because they want to deny the other parent access, but because they have accepted the painful reality that they are dealing with someone unwilling to genuinely show up. Some choose peace over endless conflict. Stability over emotional warfare. They choose to protect both themselves and their children from cycles of toxicity, inconsistency, and emotional exhaustion.

And honestly, I understand them.

I speak about this because I have watched close friends go through it. Watching the emotional rollercoaster they endure with the other parent is exhausting even from the outside. The constant back-and-forth. The manipulation. The unnecessary drama. The emotional strain. At some point, it stops looking like co-parenting and starts feeling like punishment.

And as I observe all this, I find myself thinking deeply about peace.

About sanity.

About the kind of environment children deserve to grow up in.

Because sometimes, the greatest act of love is not forcing a broken dynamic to work at all costs. Sometimes love looks like choosing stability. Choosing boundaries. Choosing healing. Choosing to raise children in an environment free from constant conflict and emotional chaos.

I have come to realize that not every separation can produce healthy co-parenting. Some people simply lack the emotional maturity, accountability, or willingness required to make it work. And forcing yourself to stay trapped in unhealthy cycles for the sake of appearances can slowly destroy your mental and emotional well-being.

At the end of the day, children need more than two parents physically present. They need peace. They need consistency. They need emotionally healthy environments. They need love that is not weaponized.

And maybe that is the lesson I take from all this.

That choosing peace is not selfish. Choosing your sanity is not weakness. And protecting your child or children from unnecessary toxicity is sometimes the most responsible decision a parent can make.

As for me, I choose peace.

I choose healing.

I choose stability.

And above all, I choose a life where love is not confused with chaos.