“Your dad will be making you breakfast today,” I tell my son as I struggle to maneuver him into his high chair. Each movement feels like a monumental effort, and I concentrate on breathing, fighting the urge to be sick in front of my 2-year-old.
“Are you feeling sick today, Mom?” he asks, his innocent eyes searching mine.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“No! No, you’re not!” he responds, his disappointment palpable. He understands all too well what this means: I’ll be spending the day in bed. As I kiss him goodbye and hand him over to my husband, I feel a fiery pressure in my head, as if a hot curling iron is twisting my brain into tight coils. I can barely function, but guilt surges within me. I wish I could enjoy the day with my little one. I wish my medication worked better. I wish I didn’t have chronic migraines.
These days, my migraines define my existence as much as my hair color or my grammatical faux pas. It’s frustrating. Although I’m one of the 36 million Americans affected by this condition, I frequently feel isolated and misunderstood. I’ve stopped sharing my struggle with others because I’m often met with pitying looks followed by comments like, “Have you tried taking two Advil?” or “Maybe you should just relax.” It’s akin to telling someone with a broken leg to simply “walk it off.” They fail to grasp that migraines are a complex neurological disorder that even medical professionals don’t fully comprehend. Well-meaning individuals often perceive a migraine as just a severe headache, but anyone who suffers knows it’s an entirely different experience.
Unlike many sufferers, my journey with migraines began only a decade ago. Initially, I experienced them every few months, but over time, the frequency has escalated to nearly daily occurrences. My primary trigger is hormonal fluctuations. The onset of my period and ovulation can lead to days or weeks of needing abortive medications. Just when I think I’ve escaped one episode, the cycle begins anew.
I’ve tried everything imaginable in search of relief. The only true respite I found was during my pregnancy, but I’m not keen on remaining in that state indefinitely—though my husband is more than willing to assist me with that! I’m still on the hunt for a lasting solution. My list of attempted remedies is extensive: acupuncture, yoga, hypnotherapy, dietary changes, hormone replacement therapy, Botox injections, and even some quality time with my husband. Unfortunately, nothing seems to work consistently. Some days, my abortive medication can halt the pain, but on others, it feels as ineffective as chewing Tic-Tacs. Without my husband’s unwavering support and adaptable work schedule, I dread to think how I would manage motherhood.
Like many moms, I aspire to be the best parent I can be for my son. Yet, when chronic pain infiltrates my life, being my best self often feels unattainable. On days when I’m unable to engage with my family, when my best efforts lead me to retreat to bed, the weight of mom guilt becomes overwhelming. This condition sometimes reduces me to a mother in name only, and that guilt is amplified, especially when my head hurts too much to cry. My migraine attacks feel like thieves, robbing me of precious moments with my family. From my bed, I can hear my son and husband laughing, and I know I’m missing out on experiences I’ll never reclaim.
While my husband endeavors to support me, the reality of my severe migraine attacks creates tension between us. The state of my health dictates whether we can have a date night or if he can honor social commitments he’s anticipated for months. On my worst days, he must juggle both his responsibilities and mine, leaving me with an immense burden of guilt.
I’m not the migraine-free partner he married, and I often feel like an impostor as a wife and mother. The pain of migraines is ever-present, whether I’m fearing an impending attack or battling to prevent one. It keeps me from fully engaging with my family, and I’ve missed significant milestones: birthdays, vacations, holidays, and anniversaries.
Yet, I remain hopeful that I will eventually discover the right treatment or procedure—menopause is starting to look promising! There are scattered days when I feel completely fine, and I cling to those moments. On those days, I remember what it’s like to live without pain, and I feel like my true self. I strive to let those days define me rather than the times I miss out on family fun. So while I continue exploring new preventative measures to manage my migraines, I focus on the small victories. Today, I was able to be present for my son. Today, I shared laughter with my husband. Today, I wrote this piece. Today was a reminder that I am so much more than my migraines.
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Summary
Chronic migraines significantly impact my life and motherhood. Despite the challenges, I strive to focus on the positive moments and continue seeking effective treatments. I aim to remind myself that I am more than my condition.
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