It struck me that it’s been 20 years since I started online journalling on a weblog (blog) and much has changed since. Back then, the World Wide Web seemed a gateway to enhancing physical connections (Friendster and MSN Messenger), sharing one’s thoughts and ideas (blogspot, livejournal), and learning about the rest of the world. Now, it seems more a source of dubious connections detached from physical reality (online scammers, AI chatbots), capitalising & commodifying individual identity in precarious influencer economies (live streamers, content creators), and spreading of (often malicious) misinformation (fake news, AI content). Given all these changes, I’ve become more concerned about personal privacy, opting to remove (old) personal content and no longer posting much personal content on any platform.

At the same time, what I valued the most in the previous era of online user-driven platforms were genuine reflections and learnings from people whose opinions I valued. Much of my education in Political Ecology came from Twitter, following debates with/amongst political ecologists and conservation scientists. Sadly, that platform is now devoid of meaningful content, with the mass evacuation of many interesting and thoughtful academics since Elon Musk took it over and renamed it X. Funnily enough (to me at least, because I always associated LinkedIn with corporate careers), a lot of academics have adopted LinkedIn as their platform for sharing latest publications and thoughts, though at least their posts are not overly contaminated by the corporate-speak that’s widespread on LinkedIn.

All that to say, I still find it helpful to articulate my reflections publicly, especially as my identity shifts and when thinking about how our intersectional positionality affects our work. As well to share struggles that are often hidden or considered taboo, but which would benefit from being more openly discussed.

As some might know, I recently joined the ranks of academic moms. I had aspired to that rank several years ago; I was hoping a baby would materialise between my PhD and postdoc. It was a struggle, with no obvious reasons why a baby was not more forthcoming, and the experience took a toll on my relationship with my partner. Unexplained infertility is tough, especially when you see those around you getting pregnant and people asking you when you might have a kid (or why you aren’t having one). For some reason, it’s tough to talk about difficulties when you’re experiencing them, despite it being better for your mental health to share these challenges. In any case, last year I found myself unexpectedly and happily pregnant, and the pregnancy was not difficult physically. I was still able to climb at some basic level even a few weeks before the baby arrived (safely, in a full-body harness top-roping).

Going through pregnancy and birth is really an experience; people have asked why I want a child and I don’t really know why. I had taken having children as something natural and to be expected, and I did feel a biological urge to be maternal. I also wanted to experience it for myself. It struck me that every single one of the 8 billion people on this planet (and the billions more that came before) would have been carried by a woman (not the same obviously) for ~40 weeks; this is still something that AI and technology cannot replace (though I watched The Pod Generation which imagines a future where babies can be grown in egg-like pods). And now having gone through pregnancy and birth of the baby, I appreciate my mom even more.

I went back to Singapore at 33 weeks pregnant (still able to fly with a doctor’s note) and it has been super heplful to have my parents around. Not having to worry about cooking, meals, or cleaning the house, having extra pairs of hands to carry the baby (read: shoulders for the baby to sleep on) and extra pairs of eyes to watch over them, getting advice on what to do (but also the space to do what I want). I see the value in multi-generational households (where interpersonal dynamics permit), even as I miss the comfort/ease/privacy of having my own space. That said, I have to acknowledge that there’s also been a substantial financial subsidy for me by living with my (middle-class) parents (who do not charge me/the baby rent, bills, or meals), given that Spanish salaries are not meant for Singaporean costs of living.

Being back in Singapore and confronted with the high cost of living and expectations around parenting has been a bit of a shock/slightly disturbing. Some parents budget up to a million Singapore dollars to raise their child, saving more than half a million before getting pregnant even. Honestly, if I had stayed in Singapore, my desire to have children would probably have been dampened. Sure, one can raise children well without subjecting them to tuition and enrichment classes, but even giving birth costs several thousand dollars with subsidy (for Singaporeans and permanent residents) or nearly 20,000 SGD privately. Without being covered by my partner’s insurance, we wouldn’t have managed.

Keeping a newborn alive and well is a rather overwhelming task, to say the least (and extra hands go a long way). The first week, I was still in shock that a whole new human being popped out of me, and I had to learn how to hold him properly (the youngest baby I had held up to that point was my nephew at 6 weeks), feed, bathe, clothe him, change his diapers (swiftly), etc. It got harder several weeks later, when we realised he needed to be burped and farted and to be soothed/held to sleep (and screamed when those did not happen. I thought doing a PhD was much easier and the thought that billions of people have mothered children to adulthood successfully was what sustained me). And all the changes to the breasts and positioning him to latch and feed properly made the first four to six weeks post-partum extra tough. Still, as long as he was fed (and gaining weight well), clean, and not crying/screaming, I wasn’t fussed about wake windows, nap times, and feeding schedules. After all, I thought that was the whole point of maternity leave — to not have to pay attention to hours on the clock or days of the week. The day starts when the baby wakes and doesn’t want to go back to sleep, and the day ends when he finally settles in his bassinet. And each day presents variations of the same: feed, burp, soothe, sleep, change diaper, and repeat, with a bath inserted at some point. And finding time to pump, wash and sterilise bottles and pump parts, and do his laundry, while keeping myself fed and watered and clean (which again, is much more achievable at low stress levels with extra hands and eyes). The day ends too quickly (or maybe not soon enough) when hours are spent soothing/bouncing/walking a baby after feeding and to sleep.

We also did occasional walks around (more so after the one-month confinement period that is a Chinese custom) — sometimes just for us adults to be out, sometimes because it seemed to help baby settle. Going around with a baby attracts attention and interaction, especially with other parents of babies. While our conversations mostly revolve around reassurance that things get better (or worse, and to enjoy this period while it lasts…), I had a recent exchange with another mom about sleep routines. One of my cousins also keeps to a rather strict daily routine for their nearly one-year-old.

There are of course, many different parenting styles and endless books about them out there, and opinions abound around having a schedule, letting baby lead/following baby’s cues, sleep training, attachment parenting, etc. Apart from wanting my child to grow up feeling safe, secure, and emotionally well-developed, I am not particularly beholden to one school of practice or another. But while reading on all the various practices and opinions about them (Reddit is particularly useful, I have spent way too much time there that I never had before), two things occurred to me: 1) that some practices, especially those around sticking to a schedule, are more for the caregivers’ benefit (not that it’s a bad thing, because caregivers need to be healthy and sane to care for the baby), and 2) this benefit mostly arises from the need for adults to fit baby-rearing around their (work) schedule. It is much easier for me to manage my working time if I know when the baby will be feeding and sleeping. I can schedule meetings and attend events and can guarantee several hours of uninterrupted work.

I had read a Noema article I read a while back about The Tyranny of Time and more recently, a Lies are Unbekoming substack article about The Colonization of Time that triggered these thoughts. Which made me wonder if the decolonial thing to do is to not start training the baby to fit into our capitalist schedules, and just follow the baby’s cues as the most natural and instinctive way of existing on this earth? Or would that just be taking baby-led too far, since after all, they arrive on this earth still needing help to burp and fart… I would love to know what parenting in pre-European colonisation cultures are like, and so far the only book I have found (and read) that somewhat attempts this is Hunt, Gather, Parent by Michaeleen Doucleff, which has had mixed reviews and several rather valid critiques.

Coming back to the topic of being an academic mom, I am enjoying this period of time without explicit pressure to work (indeed, my supervisor was very explicit about not contacting me during my leave unless I initiated it), and it has been a good break to not think about my ongoing projects for a bit. Nonetheless, the implicit pressure exists: “For many mums, this time, whether cherished or not, comes at a cost, as the rest of the academic world is still frantically working, creating new collaborations, publishing papers, presenting at conferences, collecting data, recruiting students, speaking with the press, and submitting grants.” (Fadrique and Baez, 2026 After the initial phase of frantic newborn-care learning, by week 7/8 post-partum, my mental capacity had freed up enough to worry about work again. Combined with imposter syndrome and worrying about the future (job and financial security, especially with a child), I contributed to my own sleep deprivation during night-time feedings. I cannot entirely switch off, and feel the need to at least keep up with latest relevant publications in the field and think about potential future projects.

All my academic worries aside, being a first-time mother is an incredible and humbling experience, and I should probably focus more of my energies absorbing and enjoying this unique period of life. Babies don’t care what other hats you might wear, they just want to be fed, clean, warm, and loved.