The Mindful Migraine

I’ve been thinking a lot about the habits that we learn from our parents – and those that we pass onto our kids. The list that comes up in my mind is a mixed bag of wonderful memories, routines and rituals… as well as a handful of dubious practices.

[This post includes discussions about vomit – so feel free to give it a miss!]

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My mother had migraines, and I can clearly remember my father making a ‘cubby-den’ for her out of our bottom bunk, by draping blankets from the top bed down to the floor. The idea was to keep the space as dark and cool as possible while my mother fought off her migraine (without medications back then (triptans didn’t arrive in Australia until around the 1980s)). I can remember everyone having to stay out of the room to keep it quiet, but I also remember going into the room to take her vegemite on toast. I have a VERY vivid memory of lifting the blanket aside to tell her the toast was ready, and her moaning in horror as she tried not to be sick from the smell.

Oops… it was one of those Migraine Love Language moments where best intentions clash with real needs.

It was potentially also a moment when pre-migraine-me learnt a lesson: food smells are triggering for migraines.

It makes me wonder… migraines are often genetic, but more than inheriting a gene that is switched on or off, we might also inherit soul-deep lessons from our childhood experiences that play-themselves-forward into our own health stories.

Thinking about that spewy memory reminded me of another one where the action was played-forward from me to my daughter…

When I was pregnant with my second daughter, I had terrible ‘morning sickness’ which was really more like ‘motion sickness’. Honestly, all day, every day, standing up, walking, being in the car, ANY TIME I moved around too much, I risked vomiting. As a result, I often carried around a sick-bucket (sorry).

One idyllic day, the moms-n-bubs group I was part of, all met at the beach for a play-date. The tiny toddlers were all making sandcastles, and our job was to make sure nobody’s baby ate the sand or wandered off into the water. While the other bubs were all busy building, my daughter picked up a sand-bucket, lifted it to her face and started making strange sounds into the interior which resonated ominously.

All the moms were staring at her in bemusement – including me. What on earth was she doing? It seemed very intentional – and yet – irrational. And then it occurred to me – babies are sponges – they watch and listen and learn – monkey see / monkey do. Mummy puts her head in a bucket and makes strange sounds… so does baby.

Delightful.

There is something slightly upsetting about imagining what lessons you might be teaching your children when you are sick.

Is my brokenness contagious? Will my daughters grow up to be weak or lazy seeing me in bed all the time? Will they somehow translate all my down-time into thinking that hard work is optional? Will they grow up to think their life will be so narrow and bleak?

Rest assured that I do NOT believe this is the case.

Thankfully, my eldest daughter has NEVER since made strange noises whenever she utilizes a bucket.

On the other hand, both my daughters HAVE grown up to be independent, hardworking, empathetic and understanding young ladies… they may yet get migraines (fingers and toes crossed (like you wouldn’t believe) they won’t), but if they do, here’s hoping that they remember to rest and take care of themselves.

Guilt / shame / fear / regret / anticipatory dread – none of these negative emotions are helpful to your healing.

Set them aside.

My parents did the best they could do with what they had and based on what they believed – and now I’m doing the same thing with my husband as we raise two girls; the best we can with what we have and based on what we believe.

If you’re doing the best you can – congratulations – and may your children not embarrass you with a bucket!

Keep going and keep growing, and take care taking care, Linda x

[PS – the images I use on the blog are either AI generated or come from the free Pexels library – the image at the beginning of this post is not my bub – but nonetheless is incredibly, chubby-cheeked, virtually similar.]