Why We Took Our Son Out Of IFC

Every family’s journey looks different. This just happened to be ours.

We enrolled our son in Infantcare (IFC) when he was just two months old. It wasn’t an easy decision. But like many working parents in Singapore, we had to figure out how to juggle work, caregiving and household responsibilities — and we were struggling.

At the time, I was still running a small floral business and simply had to return to work within eight weeks. Without the luxury of a four-month maternity break, and not wanting to burden our ageing parents, IFC felt like the most natural choice.

We toured several centres, asked all the right questions and chose one that felt safe, warm and reliable. It was just a few minutes’ walk from our home, and everything clicked logistically. At first, it felt like a well-considered choice. But as the weeks passed, doubts started creeping in.

He kept falling sick — colds, fevers, coughs, one after another. Our doctor told us he has allergic rhinitis and sensitive airways (just like our eldest who eventually outgrew it!). So our medicine cabinet was always stocked with Ventolin and Flixotide, nasal sprays and Sterimar, as well as bottles of cough syrups, fever patches… We soon lapsed into a routine: the wheeze, clinic runs, sleepless nights and nebuliser sessions.

We tried to tough it out, telling ourselves his immunity would strengthen over time. After all, that’s what everyone says: “It’s good for their immunity.” We added daily probiotics, elderberry supplements and multi-vitamins into his routine. But nothing seemed to help.

The cycle was relentless. He’d fall sick. We’d spend hours at the clinic. I’d scramble to reschedule work and care for him at home. Just when he seemed well enough to return to IFC, within a day or two, it would start all over again — the sniffles, the cough, the low-grade fever creeping back.

And because this was 2022 — post-COVID — even a simple runny nose meant he couldn’t return to IFC for days. On top of that, there were repeated HFMD outbreaks and COVID cases in the centre, which meant that even when he was well, we’d rather not send him in. Week after week, he was either too sick to attend… or staying home to hide from any outbreaks.

It was stressful. Exhausting. Nerve-wracking. We kept asking ourselves: is this normal?

The answer, frustratingly, is yes.

This is what happens in group care settings for infants, especially those with immature immune systems. We don’t blame the teachers or the centre. They were kind, attentive, and doing their best. It’s just the nature of the environment.

But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier.

Because nothing prepares you for the sight of your baby struggling to breathe.

The last straw came when he was hospitalised for an RSV infection. He was just 10 months old. I remember rushing from work to the hospital, heart pounding, barely able to process anything except the need to reach him. My husband took leave so he could stay by his side for the next few days.

One night, his oxygen levels dipped so low we were genuinely frightened. We watched the monitors beep, nurses adjusting the mask, his tiny chest rising and falling with so much effort — and we just sat there, helpless, waiting for things to stabilise.

That moment — the fear, the fragility, the rawness of it all — stayed with us. It was when we knew, deep in our bones: this wasn’t working. Something had to change.

He stayed in the hospital for almost a week, and my husband had to take leave to be there 24/7. I couldn’t be there because mine was retail work — and that meant I had to be physically at work or risk customer complaints and not being able to pay rent.

So, we decided to pull him out of IFC and started to rethink how we could make things work at home. We knew it wouldn’t be an easy decision. There would trade-offs — financial, emotional and professional.

We knew that one of us would have to stop working if he stopped going to IFC. Ultimately, I ended up closing the business I built over a decade. Now, it wasn’t just any job. I’d poured a decade of my life into that flower shop — built it from scratch, weathered Valentine’s Day madness, Mother’s Day chaos and the quiet Mondays worrying about rent. Letting go of that felt like letting go of a part of myself (If you’re thinking of becoming a SAHM, scroll down and read the “Why I Became a Stay-at-Home Mum!” blog post).

And switching to a single income brought a huge lifestyle shift. I could no longer spend on little luxuries like clothes or accessories without thinking twice. I”d earned my own money ever since I was 19, so this new dependence felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable. The financial burden now rests entirely on my husband.

Thankfully, we talked it through and made the decision as a team. Our son stayed home with us — or with his grandparents — until he turned 18 months.

This decision brought something we hadn’t felt in a while — peace of mind.

Looking back, I don’t regret choosing IFC. We made the best decision we could at the time. But I don’t regret walking away from it either.

In fact, things only got better after we pulled him out of IFC.

That’s the part no one tells you: immunity can strengthen — but not always in the way or timeline people assume. Once we kept him home, he stopped falling sick so often. The break in that relentless cycle gave his little body space to grow stronger, recover fully and catch up.

Then, at 18 months old, he joined Playgroup class in a childcare. And yes, he started falling sick again. But by this time, his small body was stronger. And we finally felt he was truly building his immunity up. He still caught bugs now and then, but they were shorter, milder and less frequent. We finally felt like he was actually building immunity — just at his own pace.

I truly believe every child — and every family — is different. IFC isn’t a bad choice, far from it. Plenty of little ones thrive in the IFC environment. They get structure, stimulation and the chance to socialise and learn through play. And for working parents juggling full-time work, IFC can be a real lifeline.

For us, though, it just wasn’t the right fit. We had to make a choice that gave us peace of mind — even if it meant letting go of what we originally planned. And that’s okay.

Little Notes

If you’re considering withdrawing from IFC…

Observe your baby: If your baby’s falling sick more than they’re recovering, struggling with appetite, or just seems off, it’s okay to pause and reassess the situation. If they are sick for longer than they are well, and recovery never seems to catch up, perhaps their body just needs more time.

Stay-at-home trial! Let your baby stay home for a week if possible. See how he or she is like. Observe their energy, appetite and mood in a home setting. Sometimes the shift in environment gives you the clarity you need.

Discuss caregiving logistics: If you pull your baby out of IFC, are you able to find an alternative trustworthy caregiver? Would one party be able to WFH or would the grandparents be able to step in to help? If you plan to stay home yourself, do read the next point.

Check your finances: Withdrawing from IFC often means shifting to a single income. Review your financial situation: Can you manage household expenses? Can you continue small CPF or Medisave top-ups to ensure future stability?

Talk to your centre: Be open about your concerns. While part-time care or deferment isn’t commonly offered, some centres may be willing to explore options — especially if there’s a strong reason or medical need. Even if policies stay the same, it can be helpful just to have the conversation.

Understand the T&Cs: Most centres require at least 1 month’s written notice if you plan to withdraw, and your deposit will only be refunded if notice is given properly. Please read your enrolment T&Cs before making the call.