The Boredom Of Being A Mum

Kitty Dimbleby describes the guilt of trying so hard to have babies – and then discovering what comes next…

- Kitty Dimbleby

My phone said that it was 2am when I was woken — max was disorientated and upset, his forehead blazing. I tried to calm him, but he was beyond comfort. The syringe of Calpol was ready on the bedside, but he was having none of it. Fighting me with all his might (he’s surprisingly strong for a three-year-old), he spat out the medicine, headbutting me in the process. In pain, and sleep-deprived, I yelled at my sick boy. we stared at one another in shock, then both burst into tears.

Three days into my first experience of chicken pox and this was by far the worst night.

The next day, my eyes dry with exhaustion, I was consumed by conflicting emotions: guilt for shouting, sympathy for my son, frustration at emails unanswered. I felt smothered by his physical needs and was bored of being trapped in the house.

Is it terrible to admit that? It feels terrible, but I know that I am not alone in thinking it, although few actually say it. Compounding my guilt is the knowledge that I fought for this. I am extremely fortunate to be a mother. Both Max and his older sister, Chloe, who’s six, are IVF babies — longed-for and planned.

No easy option

Being unable to conceive naturally when I desperately wanted a child was one of the hardest things I’ve been through. Every month, the disappointment stole the joy out of life. IVF, when we got there, was no easy option — from injecting yourself daily to the indignity of internal ultrasounds, hormonal imbalance and the agony of waiting to see if it had worked.