Welcome to Her Circle of Motherhood, where I connect with mothers from around the world to explore the beauty and complexity of parenting within communities. Today, I had the pleasure of sitting down with Sarah Lim, a Singaporean mother of two. We discussed how connection and shared wisdom have shaped her journey through motherhood.
Sarah Lim
From: Singapore
Current city: Shanghai, China
Children: Two sons (10 years old and 7 years old)
–To start, could you share a bit about yourself—what do you call your hometown, and what is your favourite memory from growing up there?
I grew up in the central part of Singapore, in a close-knit Christian community. My childhood was simple and peaceful. But even from a young age, I felt a strong urge to explore the outside world. Singapore felt small to me, and I always had a desire to go somewhere else.
After high school, I discovered computer programming and eventually pursued my undergrad in Australia. Those years abroad changed me where I discovered the joy of living independently.
-It sounds like your life began in a very peaceful environment, but your desire to explore the outside world was strong.
Yes! After graduation, I started working in the IT industry. It was the early 2000s, and most people had never heard of Wi-Fi. This technology was also known as WLAN, WIFI, IEEE802.11—all those technical terms. I became a product marketing manager for Asia, which meant traveling across the region to introduce wireless networking concepts to entirely new markets. I remember going to India just for an interview with CNBC. People would stare at me blackly and ask, “What are you talking about?” In many ways, explaining Wi-Fi back then felt like explaining AI (artificial intelligence) today.
All those experiences eventually led me to Intel. Through that role, I first moved to Shanghai and later to Beijing. Those years in Beijing became a significant chapter in my life, both professionally and personally. It’s where I met my husband.
-That’s beautiful. So, you met your husband in Beijing.
Yes, we were colleagues at Intel. We were good friends first before becoming a couple, and we shared many wonderful memories in Beijing. We spent ten years there―we got married and welcomed our first child.
The Long Road to Holding My Son: IVF, Loss, and the Birth That Changed Everything
-That’s so wonderful. Can you take me back to the moment you first discovered you were pregnant?
Both of my sons came to us through IVF. When we first decided to start a family, we couldn’t conceive naturally. As I approached 40, we chose not to wait and began the IVF process. We found a hospital in Beijing, and I became pregnant on our first attempt. But then I miscarried.
-I can only imagine how difficult that miscarriage was―especially after feeling such hope and heartbreak in a short time.
It was devastating. When I lost that first baby, I had to go through confinement as though I had given birth. The physical recovery was painful, and the emotional weight was heavier. It took every ounce of courage I had to try again. But we did. And on our second attempt, we succeeded.
-It sounds like a profound mix of heartbreak and resilience—grieving, healing, and ultimately trying again.
Yes, the physical toll of IVF came from the daily injections—in your stomach and your hip. To prepare my body, I also did acupuncture. Each session meant at least 15 to 20 needles. If I had collected every needle from my IVF journey, I’m not joking—they’d fill an entire bucket!
-That sounds absolutely exhausting, both physically and mentally, having to endure that many needles day after day.
And expensive, too. The whole process was grueling. But honestly, the most dramatic part wasn’t the IVF itself—it was the delivery. The first labour lasted more than 40 hours. I couldn’t dilate properly, and I was determined to avoid an epidural. I made it through the first 24 hours. But after 40 hours, the doctors told me we needed an emergency C-section—the baby’s heartbeat was dropping. They rushed me to the operating table.
-That sounds absolutely intense.
Then things escalated. When they tried to close the incision, I suddenly went into shock. One moment, I was chatting with my husband, hearing my baby cry, listening to the nurses count their instruments. The next moment, my body started shaking uncontrollably on the table.
-What a terrifying moment… That must have felt absolutely scary.
It was. Suddenly, every monitor around me started beeping—my heart monitor, my oxygen monitor. I was experiencing a massive hemorrhage. My consciousness kept fading in and out. They called in two more surgeons; together with my OB-GYN, the three of them worked frantically to find the source of bleeding. When my placenta detached, the uterus hadn’t contracted properly after 42 hours of labour. The blood just kept flowing. That’s why my body went into shock.
-What a horrifying experience to go through. I can’t imagine how intense that was.
They worked on me for nearly an hour before they could stop the bleeding. I lost two liters of blood. When I was finally back in the recovery room, my OB-GYN came to see me during morning rounds. She said, “You are so lucky to live in this modern age. Back in the olden days, you wouldn’t have survived this delivery.” At that moment, the seriousness of what I’d been through truly sank in.
-Losing two liters of blood and hearing those words—it must have been surreal.
Absolutely. I felt as though I’d been given a second chance to be with my baby. I could have gone to heaven, but I didn’t. In that realization, I understood something: the best gift I could give my son wasn’t an inheritance or a promise of a good life; It was something simpler. When I’m gone, his family, his siblings, will be all he has. So I turned to my husband and said, “I’m going to work on having a second child.”
