SINGAPORE: Singapore’s declining birth rate is a perennial topic which everyone, from parliamentarians to the man on the street, has opinions about.
What strikes me is that most commentary on this “existential challenge” has come from parents. Meanwhile, those who have yet to become parents are more often spoken about than heard from.
As of 2024, the median age of first-time fathers is 33.6, and for mothers, 31.9. This is how old my husband and I are. As DINKs (dual income, no kids), we are the subject of this national debate and the target of policies that might nudge us toward having children.
But amid the handwringing and coaxing, a neglected talking point is infertility – something my husband and I have been struggling with for over a year.
About 15 per cent of couples in Singapore experience infertility, with the causes split evenly between men and women. Though we may be a minority, the camp may grow as more couples marry and have children later in life. Fertility declines with age for both sexes, with women seeing a steeper drop past the age of 35.
For policymakers, raising fertility rates is a mammoth task with many moving parts. First, they need to convince people to get married, then convince couples to want children. With the number of singles in Singapore on the rise, and growing anxieties about the world children will inherit thanks to climate change and AI, it will take ingenuity and serious PR skills to craft pro-family narratives that aren’t overbearing.
Next, policymakers need to make having and raising children more feasible. This is where subsidies and incentives, as well as housing and education policies come in. There’s consensus that more needs to be done – whether it’s increasing childcare leave or strengthening provisions for flexible work arrangements.
But say all these efforts work and more couples decide to have a child. Biology may not immediately cooperate. Even in young and healthy adults, the chance of conception in any given month is only about 20 to 25 per cent. Couples who do not conceive within one year of trying are considered infertile.
For couples dealing with infertility, it is painful to see discussions about babies take the national spotlight, or to face questions at festive gatherings about when our little one is coming.
Everything can feel like a reminder of our personal failure. An acquaintance saying she had her first child without trying. A friend finding out she was already pregnant during a fertility screening.
Of course they don't mean ill – our condition is invisible. But when we muster our courage to confide in someone about it, they don’t always know how to respond. Well-meaning relatives have advised me and my husband to “just relax”, or that “these things take time”.
Even healthcare professionals can be insensitive. When our gynaecologist handed us the results of our fertility check-up, he said our problem was “hardcore”.
I asked if he could advise on lifestyle and dietary changes that might improve our situation. He replied: “That would be like telling a cancer patient to try going out in the sun more.”
Since then, seeking help with infertility has been a task shrouded in secrecy and shame – to be discreetly discussed with specialists outside our insurance coverage, or obsessively researched on clinic websites and Reddit threads.
In the 2026 Committee of Supply debate, Minister in the Prime Minister’s Office Indranee Rajah said the government will work on raising awareness of fertility health, reviewing the assistance available to couples on their fertility journeys and improving workplace support for those undergoing fertility treatments.
But as policymakers flesh these out, it bears remembering that potential parents aren’t just data points or KPIs. Couples struggling to conceive cycle between desperate hope and crushing disappointment. What many of us want is empathy.
If someone opens up to you about their infertility, listen. Ask questions out of curiosity, not judgment. Resist the urge to give advice.
Though “When are you having children?” seems like harmless small talk, it can put people in an awkward position. Some may not want kids. Others may be going through fertility treatments that take a toll on the mind and body. And others may be grieving a pregnancy loss, or coming to accept that they may not become parents.
More often than not, we will force a smile and tell a half-truth.
Parents today do not have it easy. But spare a thought for the aspiring parents who want this more than anything. Before assuming that we need to be nudged and coaxed, hear us out.
Erin Low is Deputy Editor, Commentary at CNA Digital.
Continue reading...
What strikes me is that most commentary on this “existential challenge” has come from parents. Meanwhile, those who have yet to become parents are more often spoken about than heard from.
As of 2024, the median age of first-time fathers is 33.6, and for mothers, 31.9. This is how old my husband and I are. As DINKs (dual income, no kids), we are the subject of this national debate and the target of policies that might nudge us toward having children.
But amid the handwringing and coaxing, a neglected talking point is infertility – something my husband and I have been struggling with for over a year.
NOT A SWITCH YOU CAN FLICK ON
About 15 per cent of couples in Singapore experience infertility, with the causes split evenly between men and women. Though we may be a minority, the camp may grow as more couples marry and have children later in life. Fertility declines with age for both sexes, with women seeing a steeper drop past the age of 35.
For policymakers, raising fertility rates is a mammoth task with many moving parts. First, they need to convince people to get married, then convince couples to want children. With the number of singles in Singapore on the rise, and growing anxieties about the world children will inherit thanks to climate change and AI, it will take ingenuity and serious PR skills to craft pro-family narratives that aren’t overbearing.
Next, policymakers need to make having and raising children more feasible. This is where subsidies and incentives, as well as housing and education policies come in. There’s consensus that more needs to be done – whether it’s increasing childcare leave or strengthening provisions for flexible work arrangements.
But say all these efforts work and more couples decide to have a child. Biology may not immediately cooperate. Even in young and healthy adults, the chance of conception in any given month is only about 20 to 25 per cent. Couples who do not conceive within one year of trying are considered infertile.
Related:
REMINDERS OF A PERSONAL FAILURE
For couples dealing with infertility, it is painful to see discussions about babies take the national spotlight, or to face questions at festive gatherings about when our little one is coming.
Everything can feel like a reminder of our personal failure. An acquaintance saying she had her first child without trying. A friend finding out she was already pregnant during a fertility screening.
Of course they don't mean ill – our condition is invisible. But when we muster our courage to confide in someone about it, they don’t always know how to respond. Well-meaning relatives have advised me and my husband to “just relax”, or that “these things take time”.
Even healthcare professionals can be insensitive. When our gynaecologist handed us the results of our fertility check-up, he said our problem was “hardcore”.
I asked if he could advise on lifestyle and dietary changes that might improve our situation. He replied: “That would be like telling a cancer patient to try going out in the sun more.”
Since then, seeking help with infertility has been a task shrouded in secrecy and shame – to be discreetly discussed with specialists outside our insurance coverage, or obsessively researched on clinic websites and Reddit threads.
Related:
THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE NUMBERS
In the 2026 Committee of Supply debate, Minister in the Prime Minister’s Office Indranee Rajah said the government will work on raising awareness of fertility health, reviewing the assistance available to couples on their fertility journeys and improving workplace support for those undergoing fertility treatments.
But as policymakers flesh these out, it bears remembering that potential parents aren’t just data points or KPIs. Couples struggling to conceive cycle between desperate hope and crushing disappointment. What many of us want is empathy.
If someone opens up to you about their infertility, listen. Ask questions out of curiosity, not judgment. Resist the urge to give advice.
Though “When are you having children?” seems like harmless small talk, it can put people in an awkward position. Some may not want kids. Others may be going through fertility treatments that take a toll on the mind and body. And others may be grieving a pregnancy loss, or coming to accept that they may not become parents.
More often than not, we will force a smile and tell a half-truth.
Parents today do not have it easy. But spare a thought for the aspiring parents who want this more than anything. Before assuming that we need to be nudged and coaxed, hear us out.
Erin Low is Deputy Editor, Commentary at CNA Digital.
Continue reading...