“Today, your dad will be making your breakfast,” I tell my little one, trying to hide the struggle in my movements. As I fasten him into his high chair, I focus on breathing deeply, hoping to stave off the nausea threatening to overwhelm me.
“Mommy, do you have a headache today?” he asks innocently.
“Yes,” I reply, feeling the weight of his disappointment as he exclaims, “No! No, you don’t!” He knows what this means: I’ll be confined to bed for the rest of the day. After kissing him goodbye and handing him over to my husband, I feel the familiar, fiery grip of a migraine tightening around my head. Guilt churns in my stomach; I long to spend the day with my son, wishing my medication would actually work. I wish I didn’t have chronic migraines.
These days, my migraine attacks shape my identity as much as my hair color and my struggles with grammar. It’s frustrating. Even though I’m among the 36 million Americans affected by this condition, I often feel isolated and misunderstood. I’ve stopped sharing my diagnosis with others due to the judgment I face. When I do, I’m usually met with sympathetic glances followed by unhelpful suggestions like, “Have you tried taking two Advil?” or, “Have you considered reducing your stress?” It’s akin to telling someone with a broken leg to simply “walk it off.” Many fail to grasp that a migraine is a complex neurological disorder that remains poorly understood even by medical professionals. Those who haven’t experienced it often see a migraine as just a bad headache; anyone who suffers from them knows that’s far from the truth.
Unlike many others, I only began experiencing migraines about a decade ago. Initially, they would strike every few months, but over time their frequency and duration have escalated, and now I battle them nearly every day. Hormonal fluctuations are my primary trigger; the onset of my period and ovulation can lead to extended periods of needing abortive medication. Just as one episode subsides, the cycle begins anew with shifting hormones.
I’ve tried an array of solutions in search of relief. The only time I’ve found any reprieve was during pregnancy, but I certainly don’t plan on being perpetually pregnant. My husband is more than willing to help with that endeavor, but I’m still on the lookout for a long-term solution. I’ve experimented with everything from acupuncture and yoga to hypnotherapy, dietary adjustments, natural hormone therapy, and Botox injections — and let’s not forget the occasional romantic evening with my husband. Unfortunately, nothing has proven effective. Some days I find my abortive medication capable of halting the pain, while other times it feels as ineffective as eating Tic-Tacs. Without my husband’s unwavering support and flexible work schedule, parenting would be an insurmountable challenge.
Like any mother, I strive to be the best for my child. We moms want to be present for our kids, but when you have a chronic pain condition, achieving that ideal can be incredibly difficult. On days when I can’t be my best — when my best means retreating to bed — the guilt weighs heavily on me. Migraine attacks often make me feel like a mother in name only, pushing my guilt to new heights, and the pain is often too severe to even cry about it. My migraines rob me of precious time with my family. While I lie in bed, unable to move, I can hear my son and husband enjoying moments I’m missing.
My husband does his best to be supportive, but the strain of my severe migraine attacks creates tension between us. The state of my head determines whether we can enjoy a date night or if he can attend social events he’s anticipated for months. When I’m incapacitated by a migraine, he has to shoulder both parenting and work duties, leaving me with a mountain of guilt.
I’m not the migraine-free person he married, and I often feel like a fraud as both a wife and mother. The pain of migraine is a constant presence in my life — whether I’m fearing an impending attack or trying to stave one off — and it prevents me from being fully engaged and present as the mother and partner I aspire to be. I’ve missed birthdays, vacations, holidays, and anniversaries due to the relentless grip of my migraines.
Despite this, I hold onto hope that one day I’ll find the right treatment or procedure. Honestly, menopause is starting to look pretty appealing! Occasionally, I have days where I feel completely normal, and those are the moments I cling to. On those good days, I remember what life can be like without pain, where I feel whole and truly myself. I aim to let those days define me — not the times when I miss out on playtime with my son or skip date nights. As I continue to explore new preventative strategies, I find solace in the small victories. Today, I was able to be a mother to my son. Today, I laughed with my husband. Today, I wrote this. Today was a reminder that I am so much more than my migraines.
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Summary
Chronic migraines have a profound impact on my life, shaping my identity and parenting. Despite being one of the millions who suffer from this condition, I often feel isolated and misunderstood. The struggle to balance motherhood, personal relationships, and my health creates significant emotional weight. I continue to seek effective treatments while cherishing the good days that remind me of who I truly am beyond my migraines.