STI: Talking babies

Mar 7, 2004

Talking babies

Even as the Government mulls over the best baby-friendly policies to adopt, it knows there is only so much it can do because, ultimately, marriage and parenthood are 'personal choices'. But how do these decisions come about, and what is the role of providence and actual experience in making them? After several days of asking readers, INSIGHT decided to turn the mirror around into the newsroom.

We found a microcosm of society at large: mothers and fathers, married people who don't want children or trying hard to have them, singles who feel their time has passed. A thread emerges: Children are conscious choices now which they weren't for previous generations. Then, having babies was something you just did. Now, an education, a job and enough money for a comfortable life are vital for a life fulfilled. Babies may fit into this modern scheme of things - or not. Even if they do, one, or just two, will do. That above all is the great policy challenge: to turn the wheels back to when people don't think once, much less twice, about having children.

For a long time, three was my magic number 

Arnold Gay, 36
Senior Correspondent, Channel i News
Has been married to Deborah, 37, for seven years; son Mark is 2 1/2

THEY say couples who choose to stay childless for fear of losing their lifestyles and freedom are selfish. I suppose there is some truth to that.

I'm not terribly keen to go through another year of the feeding rotation we had put in place for Mark. The system was straightforward: Deb was exhausted by the end of the day, so I had the night shift, waking up every two hours from 2am until about 10am. We call that the lost years, because we don't remember much of anything else.

Nor am I in a rush to go back to playing tag at meal times, with one of us carrying Mark as the other eats. Movies were a rare treat, and friends stopped asking me out because I kept rushing home to my baby.

But all these considerations pale in comparison to the real reasons why we're stopping at one. First and foremost, it's about being there. Every night, when I come through the front door, Mark is ready with a big kiss and a hug.

Then, without fail, he takes me by the hand, and says: 'Daddy, come play.' And I do. Even if there's work to be done, I'll pick up that red bus, or plane, or Hot Wheels car, and mess around with him until he's ready for bed.

Will I be able to give the same kind of love and attention with a second child? I'm not confident of that at all.

Lean and mean best describes the team I'm part of at work, and my hours are not going to get any easier.

If I do have a second child, I want to able to take her to school, or be there to wipe up a runny nose like I am able to most days with Mark. Oh yeah, and I don't want to feel guilty either, if I have to take time to take him to the doctor's or stay home because he's sick.

I also want my kids to have a more than decent chance of making it out there. Children are a long-term commitment.

Take school. What I see my two young nephews, Samuel and Joshua, going through right now scares me.

I am encouraged by recent changes in the education system, but, just in case, I've also started setting aside money for Mark's future education abroad. That doesn't come cheap, and another child just divides the funds.

Which brings me to cost. Singapore is expensive, period. So the maths is simple: both Deb and I must work, and hire a maid to help care for Mark. The maid levy and playschool fees are daunting.

Sure, you could argue that Mum could stay home, and look after the baby and the home, with help from Dad, but why should there be that sort of a trade-off? Never mind worries about job security, having a child should not mean having to lower your quality of life dramatically, not especially when the Government can make it cheaper.

I fail to see the logic in making sacrifices just so you can afford another child. Better to pour all your time and money into one, and give him the best you can.

From the start, Mark was never about any incentives, or about parental or peer pressure. He was always about the joy of having a child in our lives, the joy that I saw for seven years in my sister's four boys before we had him.

Mark was never meant to be an only child either. For a long time, three was my magic number. Deb was an only child, and always spoke of the loneliness and being a latch-key kid. I have two other younger brothers, and memories of my childhood are filled with family picnics, laughter, and of course the tears and fights.

It was what I wanted for my own family. But the reality of it hit home when Mark arrived. There were moments when I wondered if we had made the right decision.

Deb stopped working at the Fullerton Hotel where she was director of marketing and PR to look after Mark. The bills, the exhaustion and my work stress rose. Her strong nesting instincts were matched by an equally strong desire to excel professionally. We knew then, three was going to take some work.

Now Mum is back at work, happy, but fighting different battles. Guilt at not being there, worrying if Mark is okay, at playschool, at home.

We wonder if he's lonely. But we also know that having another child just to make sure Mark is not lonely isn't enough. Couples who do have three, four and even more children are heroes, but I'll also always remember overhearing a mother telling her son: 'Dad and I sacrificed everything for you and your sisters. Don't you ever forget that you ungrateful boy!'

That is not the way I ever want to feel about Mark or any of my children.

The dream of three is not dead, and getting my wish list answered may yet change things.

But time isn't on our side. I'm 36 and Deb a year older. But ultimately, it's still about really wanting one, before we have another child.

 

A baby? Oh no, not if I can help it

Alexandra Ho, 28
Reporter, Channel i News
Married for five months to David, 40, a teacher

FOR as long as I can remember, I never wanted kids. I didn't even think I'd get married. Sure, I played with dolls and had my share of stuffed toys that I treated as surrogate children. But I don't think I could handle the real thing.

No, no, it's not that I hate kids. I really don't. They can be adorable when they are smiling and well-behaved.

The thing is - what do you do with kids? I can handle them for about a minute, asking them what their names are, how old they are, do they like watching Barney And Friends? And then that's it. I am really and truly stuck. I don't know what to do with them any more.

You can't make small talk with kids like you do with adults and it's too long a wait till they can hold proper conversations. I don't even want to think about how to handle them when they start bawling.

It comes back to this incident that has haunted me since I was 13. My mum was babysitting for a neighbour. The baby girl was about a year old and mum had to run to the store to get some groceries. I was to mind the baby for the 10 minutes that she's gone. But that's when all hell broke loose. The baby started bawling its little lungs out the moment mum stepped out of the house.

You can imagine my terror and panic. I tried carrying her, singing to her, feeding her and rocking her. I even begged her to stop. Nothing worked. I was on the verge of tears myself. The baby kept wailing until mum came through the door, took the baby in her arms and guess what? The baby stopped crying.

Perhaps that's a sign that motherhood's not meant for me.

Besides, I have never been maternal. My girlfriends go gaga over those Ann Geddes baby calendars and postcards. I don't. They tell me they can feel their biological clock ticking away. I don't.

Then, there are the other issues that many other couples who've chosen not to have children have mentioned countless times - one of the most important being our independence.

My husband and I are travel buffs. We make it a point to go on holidays or make getaways three to four times a year. You can imagine how the arrival of a baby would bring a definite end to all that. No taking off and going on a whim when we spot a great travel deal.

That's one remark my friends with kids always make when they hear about travel bargains. Their eyes light up when talk turns to travel.

Then wistfulness and reality set in quickly to remind them of the logistical nightmare of taking junior along on a week-long vacation.

In fact, a friend even told me she has not been to the cinema since her eldest came along, let alone leaving the country.

Of course, there are our jobs. That common refrain of 'we don't even have enough time for each other' rings so true in our case. So it would be even tougher for us to make time for one more human being.

I have been asked what could possibly change my mind. More maternity leave? Financial incentives? Barring an accident, I would say, pretty much nothing.

 

I wish I were older and not a target

Mak Mun San, 33
Life! reporter, The Straits Times
Single

I HAVE a confession to make: I hate my age.

I will turn 34 in August. But, no, I am not hoping against hope to be younger. On the contrary, I wish I were much older - late 30s, early 40s, whatever.

You see, besides being nearly 34, I also happen to be a woman, and a single one at that.

In other words, I am now a prime target of the baby-making committee as I fall into the 'prime fertility years' of mid-20s to mid-30s.

Oh well, perhaps the Cut Waste Panel should set its sights on me too. After all, I am wasting my life and, to put it bluntly, my eggs.

Frankly and you may say I am silly, I can't wait to be past my sell-by date. No one will expect me to perform my 'national service' then.

Oops, sorry, I am expired. Next.

But please don't get me wrong. I love children.

In fact, I adore a friend's 21-month-old son so much that I flew to New Zealand last month just to see him.

For two wonderful weeks, all I did was play with the kid and give him a crash course in Chinese.

But that is just about the farthest I would go - pun intended - to satisfy my maternal instincts.

Yes, I do love kids - as long as they are not mine.

The reason is very simple, really.

The mere thought of having to be responsible for another human being for the rest of my life is enough to make me break out in cold sweat.

Shudder.

Am I too self-centred? Maybe. But I'd rather be a self-centred single than a self-centred mum, thank you very much.

So I guess that is why marriage never came my way.

Since babies are not on my list of 'must haves', there is no pressing need to grab a husband.

Mr Right, or even Mr Left, may have passed me by, I don't know. I wasn't paying attention.

Then, before I knew it, I was 29. It is that age when you have become so comfortable with yourself that you just don't give a hoot about what others think any more.

Give me the joys of romance and companionship, but spare me the nitty-gritty stuff of marriage, please.

I have no time and energy for that. I am, after all, nearly 34 going on 45.

 

Married late and the clock is ticking

Paul Cheong, 37
Deputy Chief Sub-Editor, The Straits Times
Married to Executive Sub-Editor Elaine Tan, 38, for four years

MY WIFE Elaine and I are trying for a baby. We married late, and the clock is ticking.

We are hoping for a baby soon, but when we do get one, what then? We face obstacles that scare us, and we often discuss the pros and cons, as well as the sacrifices we have to make.

We would both like to keep on working, but we do not have parents here to help us. Hers have emigrated, while my mum lives in Malaysia.

There is no way we would entrust a newborn to a maid, so either Elaine or I will have to stop working for a while, unless one of us can work from home or find a part-time job.

We are willing to make the sacrifices in our careers and standard of living, but are worried.

Will we be able to survive on one income, especially since we have to help support our elderly parents? Can we cope with the increasing cost of living?

Is staying home a waste of thousands of dollars our parents spent on our higher education? What happens to our careers - everything we worked so hard for many years to achieve?

What if the one working gets retrenched - will our child suffer through no fault of his? After all, we want to give him the best.

But the biggest worry we have is over employers. Already, their response in the media is very negative.

Will they rehire Elaine if they find out she takes time off for her family?

The government proposals are unlikely to help us much.

We both work at night, so day care is out. Longer maternity leave? But what about after six months? Financial incentives? It will not even come close to making up the loss in pay.

Family-friendly policy at work? Will companies still have it once they find out that it affects their bottom line?

The future will be uncertain once we have a baby, but we are plunging into parenthood with our eyes open.

We know that having a baby is not a statistic but a serious commitment - raising the child, spending enough time with him and giving him the best we can.

It is not a commitment we take lightly.

Many Singaporeans have written to this newspaper, worried about the high cost of having a baby and the pressures they face, especially at work. These worries are not going to stop my wife and I from having our first child. But a second, third or fourth?

Yes.

 

Not stopping at one, my hubby wants four

Wong Sher Maine, 28
Community beat reporter, The Straits Times
Married project engineer Loh Kar Kheng, 32, last July

AT 3AM on August 25 last year, I sat on my toilet bowl staring at the pregnancy test, my heart and a fair bit of bile in my mouth. I was pregnant? Nothing in the world had prepared me for the honeymoon baby so easily made in a moment of passion.

For one, I always thought I would have problems, for if infertility is associated with work stress and a hectic lifestyle, who could be more in danger than a journalist?

For another, the three-room flat which my husband cannot sell for another five years according to HDB rules is a couple's dream, with no walls and platforms, but a danger zone for a baby.

And on a newsdesk where there are only a few mothers among over 50 predominantly women journalists, it is clear that mine is not a baby-friendly job.

But by the time I left for work that August morning, I had started feeling happy about the blossoming cluster of cells in my belly. Yes, the baby had come sooner than expected, but I could think of it as an indication of how unexpectedly efficient we were, rather than as a mistake.

My husband and I - though we never really talked about when to have how many babies - have also never shunned the idea of having kids, which we do not hate or find irritating like some of our friends. If we were meant to have them, we thought, we would be happy about it, rather than having to resort to our planned alternative of rearing dogs to keep us company in our old age if we were barren.

It might have been better, though, if the baby had come according to plan after my husband had fulfilled his dream of getting a master's in a few years' time. Too late for that.

Even if we were not prepared for the baby boy, who is arriving in two months' time, we will cope and adapt as each obstacle comes our way. Home too small? Move back with the parents. Money not enough? Rent out our empty flat.

Job too stressful? Quit - I, not him - if it comes to that. I refuse to fret over what I have to give up, or whether I have enough money to give the baby the best.

I would like to think that my parents' generation did a fine job with child rearing and they never strained so hard to think about how to do it. They just had them.

As a mother-friend of mine would say, all a child needs is love.

Right now, it is hard to feel motherly or loving when the baby takes my breath away with a hard kick, but I have never felt so alive.

Now I am having one, I intend to have more simply because the kid might get lonely. My husband wants four. We'll see.