Pregnancy is full of challenges, but I didn’t expect how hard it would be to separate wants and needs, especially once I got sucked into the “pregnant mums subculture” in Singapore.
I put that in air quotes because it’s the closest I’ve come to describing the vortex of kiasu-ness and consumerism that convinced me that I needed to maximise the experience with a whole new maternity closet and a photoshoot for the bump. I needed to sign up for prenatal barre classes, wallpaper the baby’s room, and speaking of the bump, create a belly cast to commemorate the journey.
Well, almost convinced me. Thanks to pregnancy’s demands on my time and wallet, I ended up skipping a few so-called essential experiences, such as the aforementioned photoshoot. Now that I’m five months postpartum, I feel distant enough from the experience to evaluate whether or not I’d made the right decision.
Skipping the maternity photoshoot
A while back, one of our writers shared why she decided to forego a pre-wedding photoshoot. Like her, I wanted to challenge the notion that my pregnancy would be incomplete without one. What would we even do with the photos anyway?
I don’t even like posting my face on Instagram, let alone posting photos of my bare, swollen belly. Knowing us, the pictures would either end up buried in Google Drive, or stuffed into a closet.
Still, I agree that a first pregnancy is a one-time event that deserves commemoration. But if we did a photoshoot for this pregnancy, we’d presumably have to do one for subsequent pregnancies so that all of our children feel equally important.
Since we couldn’t guarantee that we’d have the time, extra cash, and energy for that, we decided that good ‘ol iPhone photos would suffice.
Regret-o-metre: 0/5.
Forgoing a babymoon
Going on a babymoon — that is, a romantic getaway before the birth of our baby — was a must for me as a first-time parent. It’d be our last trip as a family of two. Our last trip where we wouldn’t have to bring a pack-n-play or wedge kid-friendly activities in our itinerary.
So why didn’t we go? Unfortunately, my husband and I had to move houses while I was pregnant, and given inflation and the increased GST, whatever we’d saved for a babymoon went into the cost of home renovations.
Now that the baby is here and we’re planning our first vacation for her, I regret skipping out on a babymoon more than ever. Not only do we have to plan baby-friendly activities into our schedule, but we also have to plan them around her eating and sleeping patterns (how naive I was to think that babies can tahan activities after 9pm on consecutive nights!).
We need to find restaurants that can accommodate strollers, accommodations with refrigerators cold enough to store pumped breast milk, and speaking of pumping, I need to bring extra pump parts and bottles everywhere we go!
My one consolation is that once our baby grows up, we won’t need to bring so much barang with us overseas. But until then…
Regret-o-metre: 500/5
Choosing a public hospital instead of a private ‘branded’ hospital
I could probably write a whole article on this, but more than once, someone went “huh?” when I told them we’d chosen KK Women’s and Children’s Hospital (KKH) as our maternity hospital.
To which I went “huh, why not?” in return. With over 4000 staff, and between 30 to 35 babies born on its premises daily, KKH is Singapore’s largest public hospital dedicated to healthcare for women and children.
While it might be well-known for its range of maternity services, it isn’t exactly pampering: while private hospitals offer everything from limousine services, to silk bathrobes, at KKH, it’s go in, give birth, get out. (I was discharged the day after delivery once baby and myself completed the necessary tests.)
“Aren’t you afraid there won’t be enough beds for you to get a private ward?”
“Can’t you afford something nicer?”
“I heard the doctors and nurses will be too busy to take care of you since there are so many other people giving birth there.”
I had only one thing to say in response: “Sure, we can choose a private hospital, but if anything goes wrong, they’ll send us to KKH anyway so we might as well be there to begin with.”
(Did you know that KKH has Southeast Asia’s largest NICU? And that not every maternity hospital has a blood bank? Not that we were expecting our baby to be admitted into the NICU or to need blood, but it was reassuring to know that we’d be in a well-resourced environment.)
Regret-o-metre: 3/5. My maternity and birth experience at KKH was extremely no-frills, but I appreciate that it was cost-effective (doctors don’t charge professional fees at KKH!) and safe! Prior to choosing KKH, my husband and I explored a private hospital, but backed out once they told us that we’d have to top up to have neonatal specialists on standby.
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At KKH, on the other hand, they’re around by default. As impatient as I felt undergoing a 36-hour labour, I felt at peace knowing that if anything went wrong, I was in a place that was well-staffed and well-equipped enough to attend to me.
So why only a three? Given the number of people who visit every day, waiting times were far longer than they are at a private hospital. I had to wait three weeks until I could get an appointment with my doctor of choice. And during our prenatal checkups, we’d have to wait at the pharmacy for an hour before getting our meds!
I’m just thankful I didn’t have to queue at all to get a private ward once I gave birth, although that was probably due more to luck than anything else.
Not throwing a gender reveal party
You’d think that gender reveal parties are an American thing, but a couple of people actually asked us if we’d be doing one.
Getting together with our families and loved ones to celebrate the imminent arrival of our child sounded nice, but we didn’t end up throwing a gender reveal party because firstly, we weren’t ready to shell out for custom cakes, balloons, and any other gender-reveal mechanisms, and secondly, we’re too impatient for surprises.
My husband and I are also rather private — why should something as special as finding out your child’s gender become up for public consumption?
In the end, we didn’t even reveal our child’s gender on our Instagram pregnancy announcement. If you want to know, wait till the child is born lor.
Regret-o-metre: 0/5
Hard-launching my baby on Instagram
Speaking of Instagram, I’ve spotted a growing trend on my feed: hard-launching a baby on Instagram. That is, posting a picture of the baby after it’s born, without any preempting.
As someone who announced my baby over Instagram, I totally get it.. Announcing a pregnancy invites a ton of unsolicited comments and advice, which is the last thing you need when you’re already tired, stressed, and overwhelmed with information.
I even had a friend-turned-insurance agent take a sudden, suspicious interest in my life once she found out I was pregnant! (She offered to sell me insurance once I posted a birth announcement, so I guess she would have tried it regardless.)
Regret-o-metre: 2/5. My pregnancy announcement functioned much like a Bat Signal for “I need help”. Kaypoh questions and pantang pieces of advice aside, I greatly appreciated how other mums reached out with their secondhand goodies, postpartum care contacts, and listening ears!
Doing my makeup before giving birth
There’s no bigger flex postpartum like giving birth without looking like you’ve just given birth. The key? Eyebrow embroidery, eyelash extensions, a Dyson Airwrap, and a hydrating face spray.
I’ll admit that I used to hate on influencers for looking all glammed up in their hospital photos. How vain! I cluck. Aren’t there more important things to think about when you’re getting ready to give birth?
But now that I’ve experienced the horrors of a two-day labour, I understand the appeal of looking cute after giving birth. Let’s face it, you’ll probably feel demolished afterward.
Between looking after a newborn, healing from your wounds, and possibly learning to breastfeed, you’ll have precious few opportunities to look cute in the next few weeks, if not months. If you want to look good on your last day before the sleepless nights commence, that’s nobody’s business but your own.
Regret-o-metre: 4/5
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This article was first published in Wonderwall.sg.
