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Chronic Migraines Take Over My Life
“Today, your dad will handle breakfast,” I tell my son, struggling to keep my balance as I strap him into his high chair. Each movement feels like a monumental task, and I concentrate on breathing to avoid losing my lunch all over my 2-year-old.
“Are you having a headache today, Mom?” he asks innocently.
“Yes,” I reply.
“No! No, you’re not!” he shouts, his disappointment palpable. He understands what this means: I’m likely going to spend the day in bed. As I kiss him goodbye and hand him off to my husband, I can feel the relentless pressure in my head, as if my brain is being twisted into tight curls. I’m barely functioning, but the guilt surges through me. I long to spend the day with my little one. I wish my medication had been effective. I wish I could escape my chronic migraines.
These days, my migraine attacks shape my identity as much as my hair color and my struggle with punctuation. It’s frustrating. Though I’m one among 36 million Americans dealing with this condition, I often feel isolated and misunderstood. I’ve stopped sharing my diagnosis with others due to the judgment I face. Responses usually range from pitying glances to suggestions like, “Have you tried taking two ibuprofen?” or my personal least favorite, “Have you considered relaxing more?” It’s akin to telling someone with a broken leg to simply “walk it off.” Those who haven’t experienced it don’t realize that a migraine is a neurological disorder that remains poorly understood, and a true attack is not something that can be ignored or powered through.
Unlike many others, my migraines began about a decade ago. Initially, I would experience one every few months, but over time the frequency has skyrocketed, and now I’m plagued with almost daily attacks. My primary trigger is hormonal changes. The onset of my period and ovulation leads to weeks of relying on abortive medications. Just as one episode concludes, my hormones shift, and the cycle restarts.
I’ve tried nearly everything to combat these migraines. The only time I found relief was during pregnancy, but I certainly don’t plan on being perpetually pregnant—although my husband assures me he’s willing to assist. My list of attempts to find relief is extensive: acupuncture, yoga, hypnotherapy, dietary adjustments, natural hormone therapy, Botox injections, and yes, even intimacy with my husband. Unfortunately, none of these methods have worked. Some days, my abortive medication can halt a migraine, but other days it feels as ineffective as candy. Without my husband’s support and flexible work schedule, I truly don’t know how I would manage as a mom.
Like many mothers, I aspire to be the best parent possible. We all want to be there for our kids, but when managing a painful chronic condition, being at your best isn’t always achievable. On those days when I can’t give my all—when my best leaves me bedridden, separated from my family—the guilt is overwhelming. Having chronic migraines often makes me feel like a mom in name only, and my guilt skyrockets even as the pain clouds my ability to express it. My migraines rob me of precious moments with my family. I can hear my son and husband laughing while I lie in bed, unable to participate in moments I won’t ever reclaim.
My husband does his utmost to support me, but my severe migraine attacks often create tension between us. The state of my head determines whether we can enjoy a date night or if he can keep his social plans. When I’m incapacitated by a migraine, he juggles both our responsibilities—work and parenting—which only heightens my guilt.
I’m not the migraine-free woman he once married, and it often feels like I’m deceiving both him and myself. I’m constantly battling the pain of migraines—whether I’m bracing for one or trying to stave off an impending attack—and they prevent me from being fully engaged as a mother and a wife. I’ve missed birthday celebrations, vacations, Christmases, and our wedding anniversary.
Yet, I remain hopeful that one day I will discover the right medication or treatment. Menopause is even starting to sound appealing. There are days when I feel completely fine, and I cling to those moments. On those days, I remember what it feels like to be free of pain, and I feel whole again. Those are the days I strive to let define me—not the ones spent missing playtime with my son or canceling date nights. So, as I continue to explore new preventive options, and perhaps as the only woman excitedly awaiting menopause, I focus on 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 just my migraines.
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In summary, chronic migraines profoundly impact my life and role as a mother, often leaving me feeling guilty and isolated. Despite the challenges, I hold onto the hope of finding effective treatments and cherish the good days that remind me of who I truly am.