Ben Fogle candidly admits he’s often an ‘absent dad’ and finds it ‘difficult’ spending time away from his children Ludovic, ten, and Iona, nine
Ben Fogle candidly admitted that he’s often an ‘absent dad’ on Tuesday’s episode of Loose Women.
The adventurer, 46, has children Ludovic, ten, and Iona, nine, with wife Marina.
And Ben admitted that due to his adventuring career, which sees him travel around the world for different TV shows and his books, he finds it ‘difficult’ spending time away from his family.
‘Absent dad’: Ben Fogle candidly admitted that he’s often an ‘absent dad’ on Tuesday’s episode of Loose Women
The Castaway 2000 star told the Loose Women panellists: ‘My children are everything, I’m an often absent dad, I’m the dad that comes and spoils them
‘That’s the difficult thing about the relationship when I’m away.’
Asked what he would do if his wife, Marina, asked him to stop adventuring, Ben said: ‘I wouldn’t do it anymore, that was a family conversation when I climbed, there is selfishness in doing that but it’s about conversation.’
The adventurer, who climbed Mount Everest in 2018, continued: ‘Open conversations, I’ve always been very honest and it’s a collaborative decision.’
Family: The adventurer, 46, has children Ludovic, ten, and Iona, nine, with wife Marina (pictured together in October)
Fatherhood: Ben admitted that due to his adventuring career, which sees him travel around the world for different TV shows and his books, he finds it ‘difficult’ spending time away from his family
Ben went on to talk about marriage counselling, he said: ‘It wasn’t my decision to go and see someone. We did that when we lost a child at nine months. We needed someone to talk to at that stage, it was so helpful.
‘One year later Marina suggested seeing someone again, we had no problems, we have a solid marriage. But she said just because it’s not broken doesn’t mean you can’t nip something in the bud before.’
Ben’s interview comes after he bravely shared his pain of losing a child after his son William was born stillborn in 2014.
Sweet: The Castaway 2000 star told the Loose Women panellists: ‘My children are everything, I’m an often absent dad, I’m the dad that comes and spoils them.’
Team: Asked what he would do if his wife, Marina, asked him to stop adventuring, Ben said: ‘I wouldn’t do it anymore, that was a family conversation when I climbed, there is selfishness in doing that but it’s about conversation.’
The broadcaster had a stillborn son William with wife Marina in 2014 and almost lost his spouse too after she suffered an acute placental abruption at 33 weeks.
Ben posted an open letter on Instagram in September urging people not to politicise pain as he criticised The Guardian for stating David Cameron had only ever experienced ‘privileged pain’ despite the death of his son.
The paper was caught up in a storm of outrage for its response to Mr Cameron’s memoirs in which he spoke of the ‘darkness’ his family plunged into when son Ivan died aged six in 2009.
In a candid and revealing account, Ben said he wanted to share his personal pain around child bereavement, adding it ‘doesn’t matter who you are, the pain of losing a child is like ripping out your heart’.
He penned: ‘PAIN. Dear Guardian Newspaper I wanted to share with you my experience of pain. The pain of child bereavement in particular. You see, despite the geopolitical and economic divisions that have polarised the world, pain is universal.
Pain: Ben’s appearance (pictured in 2018) comes after he bravely shared his pain in September of losing a child, he had a stillborn son William with wife Marina in 2014
‘Black, white, rich, poor, Muslim, Christian, gay, heterosexual, it doesn’t matter who you are, the pain of losing a child is like ripping out your heart. A part of you, blood and flesh, is gone. It is unspeakable, intolerable and unforgettable.
‘It may suit your left-wing politics to believe we shed red, blue, black or green blood, but we don’t. We all bleed red (which I think you’ll agree is an ironically appropriate colour). There is no politics, economics, social inequality, race, class nor gender in the pain of child bereavement.
‘To politicise it is deeply offensive to everyone who has experienced it. I am not a Tory and I am certainly no apologist for David Cameron, but to describe the loss of his son Ivan as ‘privileged pain’ is grotesque.
‘Deeply offensive to the many thousands of us who have lost children of their own. I too am privileged and I have also lost a child. Your editorial insinuates that I too only experienced ‘privileged pain’.
Open letter: Ben posted an open letter on Instagram urging people not to politicise pain as he criticised The Guardian for stating David Cameron had only ever experienced ‘privileged pain’ despite the death of his son
‘There is no privilege in losing a child. There is no privilege in being called in the middle of the night, on the other side of the world, to tell you your son has died and your wife may die too.
‘There is no privilege in being turned away from a Ryanair flight because I didn’t have time to print out a boarding pass and lost my wallet in my haste to get to the hospital. There is no privilege in holding your dead son in your arms and having a photo with him.
‘There is no privilege in organising for your sons cremation and the repatriation of his ashes. There is no privilege in organising a memorial service and headstone. There is no privilege in holding my tearful wife once a year as she sobs uncontrollably on his birthday.
Upsetting: In a candid and revealing account, Ben said he wanted to share his personal pain around child bereavement, adding it ‘doesn’t matter who you are, the pain of losing a child is like ripping out your heart’ (pictured with his family in 2019)
‘I don’t want this to sound angry, but beneath my tears, your editorial has relapsed by grief like PTSD. You have made me feel such rage that I want to punch the editor in the face. As a pacifist, it doesn’t make sense to me but the pain of bereavement is inexplicable.
‘Unlike your despicable journalism, the pain of bereavement is universal and it is unifying. Unlike the hate you have inflicted, the loss of our son connected us to others who experienced the same terrible, life changing loss, unified by pain.
‘Your editorial decision has plumbed the lowest depths of journalism, as a lifelong reader and contributor of The Guardian you have left me reeling. Less hate, more love.’
Ben Fogle’s open letter in full
PAIN
‘Dear Guardian Newspaper
‘I wanted to share with you my experience of pain. The pain of child bereavement in particular.
‘You see, despite the geopolitical and economic divisions that have polarised the world, pain is universal.
‘Black, white, rich, poor, Muslim, Christian, gay, heterosexual, it doesn’t matter who you are, the pain of losing a child is like ripping out your heart.
‘A part of you, blood and flesh, is gone. it is unspeakable, intolerable and unforgettable. It may suit your left-wing politics to believe we shed red, blue, black or green blood, but we don’t.
‘We all bleed red (which I think you’ll agree is an ironically appropriate colour).
‘There is no politics, economics, social inequality, race, class nor gender in the pain of child bereavement.
‘To politicise it is deeply offensive to everyone who has experienced it.
‘I am not a Tory and I am certainly no apologist for David Cameron, but to describe the loss of his son Ivan as ‘privileged pain’ is grotesque.
‘Deeply offensive to the many thousands of us who have lost children of their own. I too am privileged and I have also lost a child. Your editorial insinuates that I too only experienced ‘privileged pain’.’
‘There is no privilege in losing a child. There is no privilege in being called in the middle of the night, on the other side of the world, to tell you your son has died and your wife may die too.
‘There is no privilege in being turned away from a Ryanair flight because I didn’t have time to print out a boarding pass and lost my wallet in my haste to get to the hospital.
‘There is no privilege in holding your dead son in your arms and having a photo with him. There is no privilege in organising for your sons cremation and the repatriation of his ashes.
‘There is no privilege in organising a memorial service and headstone. There is no privilege in holding my tearful wife once a year as she sobs uncontrollably on his birthday.
‘I don’t want this to sound angry, but beneath my tears, your editorial has relapsed by grief like PTSD. You have made me feel such rage that I want to punch the editor in the face.
‘As a pacifist, it doesn’t make sense to me but the pain of bereavement is inexplicable.
‘Unlike your despicable journalism, the pain of bereavement is universal and it is unifying. Unlike the hate you have inflicted, the loss of our son connected us to others who experienced the same terrible, life changing loss, unified by pain.
‘Your editorial decision has plumbed the lowest depths of journalism, as a lifelong reader and contributor of The Guardian you have left me reeling.
‘Less hate, more love.’
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