Kids cost money but they bring priceless gifts
I WAS surprised, and a little saddened, to read about young married
people in Singapore turning away from the prospect of having
children ('Me? Have kids? You must be joking'; The Sunday Times,
Dec 5).
What was most upsetting, however, was that some of those
interviewed spoke of children in purely financial terms, saying
that money spent on children could have been better spent on other
things.
The organisation I work for, The World Bank, has spent much of the
past decade learning directly from poor people that they define
their poverty in much more than monetary terms. The poor want more
money, certainly, but also a chance to control their lives, to have
opportunity, to live free from fear and oppression.
In the same way, real wealth cannot be calculated in dollars; it
must also be measured by one's personal feelings, peace of mind,
one's experience of true love.
I married young, and married because I was in love. Twenty-six
years later, I am still married, and still in love. We had children
early in our marriage, and by the time I was 30, I had four little
children and a wife to support.
When I was married, I earned about A$100 a week, and we were a
single-income family. Many times we struggled to put food on the
table, petrol in our car, to make ends meet.
But, even then, we had something special, something that no one
could put a price on: we had a house full of love and laughter.
And, for some reason, we always have had. I think it has to do with
that strange truth: give and you shall receive.
My wife and I have been immensely fortunate. Our children have been
happy, healthy and smart. The older ones have graduated from
university, and the others will do so too. They love each other
and, when I see them together, I just sit back and smile at the
amazing sight of four young adults and the woman I love, joking,
laughing, helping each other, sharing their thoughts and
dreams.
One time, we nearly lost a child through sudden sickness. I was a
10-hour flight away on business. I cried and prayed, and, from the
depth of my despair, I realised that there is nothing more precious
to me than the family I have and the love we share. Ask any parent
of a sick child what price they would pay for a full recovery, and
you will hear the same answer.
That is why I was saddened by what I read. Singapore is an amazing
country. As a guest here, I appreciate every day the clean air, the
greenness, the way things work, the lack of corruption, the safety,
the opportunities, the amazing energy of the people, and the way
people from different religions and nationalities get on together.
If ever there was a place to raise a family, it is Singapore.
Of course, children cost money, but what price can you put on the
feeling you have when you hold your first child and hear the first
breath, the first little cry?
What price can you put on the sight of your children together at
Christmas (mine will be here soon), opening presents and spreading
joy, as they have since Santa first visited our tiny house in
Melbourne 23 years ago?
And for me, what price would I put on the memories of seeing the
woman I love raise these children, nurture them and cherish them? I
have owned houses and cars; I have thousands of books, hundreds of
CDs, and more clothes than I can use. They can all wear out, be
stolen, or perish, and I can buy new ones or do without.
But touch my family and you touch my heart. This Christmas, many
people will exchange gifts, some costing a great deal of money. But
the gifts I am most looking forward to giving and receiving are a
few priceless smiles and hugs, from the people I know and love
best: my family. Peter Stephens
Regional Communications
Manager
The World Bank
Just curious if our "typical" singaporean sg will think the same
way? My guess is not.
