My daughter has a developmental delay. We fight for her every day, but we can't do it alone

As a parent, one of my deepest fears is that I may never hear my daughter’s voice.

My daughter turned two years old in June – a milestone at which she was diagnosed with global developmental delay. She remains non-verbal, and we’ve been advised that there's a decent possibility she will grapple with autism. 

When we received her diagnosis, my spouse and I were heartbroken. I cried, mourning the dreams I’d had for her future and the special conversations I had envisioned sharing with her. 

But amid the grief, we quickly realised that early intervention was not just an option – it was a necessity. We had to get our daughter whatever help we could, now.

We wasted no time enrolling her in the government-subsidised Early Intervention Programme for Infants and Children (EIPIC).

But like many parents interviewed by CNA TODAY earlier this month, we were confronted with a painful reality: The average waiting time for the aid that our daughter needed would be up to a year. 

For children in these crucial early years, time is a luxury that simply cannot be afforded. 

As the CNA TODAY article highlights, for children with developmental struggles, the largest window for improvement is between birth and six years old. Delaying the help they need could lead to existing issues stacking up over time. 

Private centres seemed like the obvious alternative, but with fees running into thousands of dollars a month, they are simply out of reach for us. 

As a self-funded content creator and freelance journalist, every dollar counts. My work, which focuses on diversity, equity and inclusion in technology and business, is fulfilling – but doesn’t exactly bring in the big bucks.

SMALL VICTORIES AND LIFELINES

While we wait for a spot in EIPIC, my daughter is receiving therapy at the child development unit of the National University Hospital, an option referred to us by her paediatrician in the polyclinic at her annual check-up when she turned two. 

Thankfully for us, this therapy is subsidised by the government and we are also able to use her government-supported Child Development Account to pay for it.

Together, all three of us are learning how to make eye contact, how to engage in shared play, how to communicate in the smallest of ways and so on.

After each session, we are given homework. We sit on the floor together, practising what we’ve learnt. 

Progress comes in tiny increments – a fleeting moment of eye contact, a small hand reaching out to pass me a toy. 

These milestones may seem insignificant to most, but to us, they are monumental.

Every session feels like a lifeline. Still, we’re aware that at some point, even lifelines won’t be enough. 

We feel a gnawing pressure that every day without comprehensive intervention feels like time slipping away.

THE FINANCIAL AND EMOTIONAL TOLL

The financial strain isn’t just a problem – it’s a constant reality. Therapy is expensive, and as a parent and provider, the choices are heartbreaking. 

Should I compromise on my daughter’s care because of costs? Should I cut back on other essential needs?

Instead of choosing what’s best for my daughter, it often feels like I’m just trying to figure out what’s “less worse”.

Emotionally, the journey is isolating. There are days when the weight of caregiving feels too much to bear. 

What helps is that I’ve found strength in connecting with other parents in similar situations. We share our struggles, our hopes and our hard-earned wins. 

For example, I recently had coffee with a parent whose kid is on the autism spectrum. She talked about how she went through therapy with her son, who has just turned six and is now able to talk. 

But the boy still struggles with learning difficulties and her muscular conditions. She plans to sign him up at a special education school instead of a mainstream primary school next year.

In these conversations, I am reminded over and over again that none of us are truly alone. This support can make the burden a little easier to bear – but the fact is that it doesn’t really lighten the load itself.

WHAT NEEDS TO CHANGE?

It’s clear to me that the system needs to improve. 

Families like ours can’t keep shouldering the burdens of long waiting times and exorbitant private costs. We need more subsidised slots, shorter waiting lists and affordable private options. 

Every child deserves timely and accessible care, regardless of their financial status. No one should have to feel abandoned by a system meant to support us.

What should we do? What can we do? 

Reading the stories of other parents in the CNA TODAY article, I see a common thread: Desperation, exhaustion – but still, hope. Despite everything standing in our way, we are determined to keep doing all we can to give our children a fighting chance. 

But we can’t keep fighting alone. We need more voices and more hands fighting alongside us, to ensure no family is left behind in their caregiving journey.

I invite policymakers, educators and fellow parents to join this conversation. Together, we can push for reforms that provide timely support and ease the burden on families navigating early intervention.

Because no parent should have to choose between their child’s progress and financial stability. And no child should have to wait for the care they so desperately need.

For my daughter, I will continue to advocate, learn and hope. One day, I pray, I will hear her voice. 

Until then, we press on.

Shawn Lim, 33, is a freelance journalist and a media and editorial consultant. He runs the Human Algorithm newsletter. 

If you have an experience to share or know someone who wishes to contribute to this series, write to voices [at] mediacorp.com.sg with your full name, address and phone number.