Are We Selfish for Raising a Child at Sea? the Research and Reality

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Can you raise a child on a sailboat? Perhaps more to the point, should you?

Recently, we were accused of selfishly lugging our infant daughter around in pursuit of our own adventure, at the expense of her safety and development.

I tried to brush it off, but it stung more than I expected and it stuck with me to the point it was keeping me up at night.

Through the blog and vlog, we’ve copped plenty of criticism before. I’d never really stewed over it for more than a day. This time I couldn’t seem to shake it, I wanted to understand why it felt so bad, and whether the accusation held any water.

I decided the only way I could move past it was to go through it, dive headfirst into the accusation, and examine it. And, by doing so, hopefully discover something valuable for other travelling families (or those considering it). This way, maybe I could finally put the whole thing to bed and get a good night’s sleep.

The comment was left on a video about our first season sailing with our daughter, something that, up until that moment, had felt like a beautiful success. It hadn’t occurred to me that sharing that happy experience for our family might lead others to question our decisions, let alone our motives. Of course, as anyone who’s ever used the internet could have predicted, that was naïve.

It hit a nerve, because it targeted something deeply personal and tapped into a fear that every parent carries: are we doing the right thing for our kid?

The truth is, the concern by itself is a fair one. It’s one we wrestle with, one any parent contemplating extended time afloat will wrestle with, and certainly one that people who’ve not traveled long term with children might naturally wonder about.

So, let’s unpack some common questions and fears about raising a child at sea, have a look at what the research says, and see how families like ours are finding balance between adventure and stability.

The Big Concerns

Baby on a boat in a harness holding on Are We Selfish for Raising a Child at Sea? the Research and Reality

When people question whether it’s responsible to raise a child on a boat, their concerns tend to centre on a few themes: safety, socialisation, stability, autonomy, and, as children grow older, education.

Safety: Life at sea carries risks, including weather, distance from medical care, constant motion, and the obvious: being constantly surrounded by deep water.
Socialisation: How does a child build friendships when their surroundings change every few weeks or months? What happens to playground politics, shared secrets, and lessons in cooperation and conflict?
Stability: For many, stability means a fixed home, the same school, the same park, and familiar faces. How can a child feel secure when home itself is always moving?
Autonomy: Boats are small spaces where adults set the rules. Critics question how a child learns independence and self-reliance without the freedom to explore or spend time out of a parent’s sight.
Education: As children grow, practical questions arise. How will schooling work, will travel interrupt learning, and can a child who grows up between anchorages reintegrate into traditional classrooms when the time comes?

All of these worries underscore a broader question. Can a childhood spent at sea meet the same emotional, social, and developmental needs as one on land?

What the Research Says

Safety

When it comes to children living aboard, safety is the most immediate and visceral concern. Living on a boat carries a higher-than-typical risk, but research also points to clear mitigation strategies.

Drowning: Drowning remains a leading cause of accidental death among children aged 1–4, and a major risk up to age 14. In recreational boating incidents, a significant majority of victims were not wearing life jackets.
Access to medical care: Studies in maritime and wilderness medicine highlight that one of the key risk multipliers offshore is delayed access to emergency medical care.
Environmental exposure: Pediatric health research shows that extended exposure to sun, heat, and dehydration are key risks in outdoor and maritime environments.
Sanitation and hygiene: The World Health Organization’s Guide to Ship Sanitation emphasises that small-vessel hygiene and safe water systems are critical to preventing gastrointestinal and other illness in children.
Injury and onboard accidents: Data show that falls, crush injuries, burns and other non-drowning incidents are among the most common hazards aboard small boats.

The evidence is clear: a sailing lifestyle poses different risks than a land-based home. It also offers well-defined paths to reduce those risks—through supervision, protective equipment, medical preparation, environmental awareness, skill development, proximity to help, and safe systems.

Where most parents think about car seats, driveways, or playgrounds, we think about life jackets, safety nets, and how far we are from the closest port with a hospital. The dangers may not be ones that we are most familiar and comfortable with, but the principles are the same: identify the risks, prepare for them, and manage them with care.

Socialisation

Of all the developmental concerns raised about rearing children on the move, socialisation is the one that seems to worry people most, the idea that without a consistent peer group, children might miss out on essential social and emotional development.

There’s truth to the concern. Developmental psychology is clear. Peer relationships play a fundamental role in shaping social competence, empathy, cooperation, and conflict resolution. Studies show that consistent, age-appropriate peer interaction supports emotional regulation and helps children learn to navigate group dynamics — skills that emerge most strongly in the preschool and primary years.

But the research also shows that the quality of those interactions matters more than their quantity. Close friendships, even a few, contribute more to social and emotional health than large or constantly shifting groups. And for children who move frequently, those who live abroad as “third culture kids” or children of traveling families, longitudinal studies reveal a mix of outcomes: they may indeed experience more transitions and losses, but often develop higher intercultural skills, adaptability, and empathy.

In other words, research doesn’t support the idea that socialisation only happens in classrooms or static neighbourhoods. What it does show is that providing consistent opportunities for connection with peers, mentors, and extended community is vital to healthy development, wherever they occur.

Stability

Stability is one of the cornerstones of healthy child development. In developmental psychology, it’s defined as a sense of predictability, the feeling that life has rhythm, that the people and routines around you are consistent and reliable.

Research consistently shows that stability in childhood supports emotional regulation, secure attachment, and resilience in the face of change. Children with stable home environments tend to show better academic outcomes and fewer behavioral difficulties.

However, stability isn’t just about geography. It’s not limited to a single address, school, or neighborhood. Studies across mobile populations, including military families, expatriate children, and “third culture kids”, suggest that the quality of relationships and routines matters more than the permanence of place. When children experience consistent caregiving, family connection, and clear expectations, they can adapt well even amid frequent moves.

The research doesn’t say that children need sameness; it says they need security. Predictable emotional support, reliable caregivers, and recognizable daily patterns are what create stability, whether that’s in a suburban home, a traveling van, or a 30-foot sailboat.

Autonomy

Baby playing on the sea shore Are We Selfish for Raising a Child at Sea? the Research and Reality

Another common concern about raising children on a boat is autonomy, the idea that a small, confined space might limit a child’s independence or ability to develop a sense of self apart from their parents.

Developmental psychology strongly supports the importance of autonomy. Research shows that as children grow, opportunities to make decisions, explore independently, and experience small, manageable risks are essential for building confidence, self-efficacy, and problem-solving skills.

Children develop autonomy through both physical independence (moving freely, exploring new environments) and psychological autonomy (having a voice, making choices, learning responsibility). Studies suggest that parental support for decision-making, rather than over-control or constant supervision, predicts stronger emotional well-being and motivation.

At the same time, autonomy doesn’t depend entirely on physical space. Research on family systems, homeschooling, and tight-knit environments shows that autonomy can flourish in small or structured contexts, provided that children are encouraged to participate in meaningful tasks, contribute to family life, and feel competent.

In short, children don’t require total freedom to develop independence; they require trusted responsibility. Whether that’s choosing how to spend a day at sea, developing the skills and responsibility to take the dinghy further and further afield, or being listened to in family decisions, the outcome depends less on the size of the world around them and more on how much ownership they feel within it.

Education

Structured education is one of the most practical questions parents with school age children face when considering life afloat. How do you balance learning with travel? What happens when formal schooling isn’t possible or when it is, but in a different country and culture?

Research into homeschooling and alternative education might be the closest analogue for boat-based learning and it shows that outcomes are generally positive when parents provide structure, resources, and engagement. Large U.S. and international studies report that homeschooled students perform as well as or better than their peers on standardized tests, though researchers caution that these results often reflect motivated, well-supported families.

However, homeschooling isn’t the only option. Many traveling families pause their journeys to enroll children in local or international schools, sometimes for a single term, sometimes for years. Research on globally mobile students and “third culture kids” finds that cross-cultural schooling can enhance adaptability, language skills, and cultural empathy. Students who move between systems can experience temporary academic disruption, but they often gain global awareness, flexibility, and resilience that benefit them later in life.

Studies of parental involvement and continuity of learning show that what matters most is structure and support, not whether learning happens at home or in a classroom. Children thrive when adults treat learning as an ongoing, valued part of family life.

In short, education while traveling or living aboard can take many forms, from boat-schooling to bilingual classrooms ashore. The best outcomes come when parents remain engaged, provide consistency, and see education as something that happens everywhere, not just between four walls.

What the Research Reveals

Taken together, the research paints a far more complex and nuanced picture than the one that often emerges in comment sections or social media debates.

It doesn’t support the idea that life afloat is inherently unsafe, unstable, or isolating, any more than it is automatically enriching or ideal.

What it shows, again and again, is that children thrive on connection, structure, and security.

The research doesn’t hand down a verdict; it offers a framework. It tells us what children need to grow well.

How we meet those needs will always depend on our circumstances, our values, and our willingness to adapt.

What It Means for Us

baby and mum swimming in the sea near a sailing boat Are We Selfish for Raising a Child at Sea? the Research and Reality

For us, understanding the importance of safety, socialisation, stability, autonomy, and education in our child’s long-term wellbeing means constantly measuring our lifestyle against that framework, asking what’s working, what isn’t, and where we might need to change course.

When I first read the criticism that we were selfishly dragging our daughter across the sea in pursuit of our own dreams, I was defensive and hurt. But under that was self-doubt. Were we missing the obvious? Were we blind to the costs? When the time came to put our daughter first, would we make the right decision, or bury our heads in the sand… had that moment already passed us by?

After a few days reading, reflecting, and replaying the comments in my head, I kept coming back to the same thought: the research matters, but so does what you do with it.

As fate would have it, the day after that online exchange that had sent me spiralling, I met a German mum while playing at a park on shore with Nora. Her five-year-old son couldn’t speak much English, but he played gently with Nora on the seesaw and shared his snacks. His mother told me that they had set out on their sailing adventure earlier that year, with plans to school their son along the way. But, the season had been harder than expected. Finding friends and building lasting connections had not been as simple as they’d hoped. They’d decided to head back to Germany so he could be with peers his own age.

It might sound like a story of failure, but to me it was the opposite. Here was a parent, brave enough to try something different, evaluate it, listen to her child, weigh what was working and what wasn’t, and adjust course. To me that is precisely what good parenting looks like, wherever it’s taking place.

That’s what the research really reveals: that children thrive when parents give their child opportunity, when they are tuned in, responsive, and willing to adapt.

That kind of adaptability is what we want to shape everything we do in life. Sailing with a baby has already taught us to slow down, to trade long passages for safe weather windows, and to build structure where chaos could so easily take over. We’ve learned to weave safety and redundancy into a life full of unfamiliar risks, and to create daily rhythms, shared breakfasts, quiet naps, and evening routines that give Nora’s days a sense of security and flow.

We’ve also found a surprising depth of community among other sailing families. It’s not handed to you the way it might be at home, but it is there, waiting for parents who go looking for it.

I still believe the research is real and vital. It helps us question our assumptions and gives us language for instincts we already feel. But for Kelli and I, these things are mostly deeply intuitive. We were lucky enough to both grow up with parents who modeled what children need most: safety, stability, curiosity, connection, and trust. Parents who treasured education, supported and nurtured our social connections, and, when it came to independence, knew when to hold on and when to let go.

The idea that we wouldn’t give our child those same things is, frankly, unfathomable. And now that I’ve written that all down, I reckon I’m going to sleep pretty well.