If you had known I would be this way, would you have had me?

I was eight or nine years old when I snuggled in my dad’s lap and asked him. I was coming off another painful migraine attack and I needed to know. If they had known my existence would be so full of pain and their lives would be spent watching me suffer and searching fruitlessly for relief, would they have made a different choice? It was an honest question, but only now that I am a parent can I truly grasp the weight of what I was asking and how heart wrenching it must have been for him to be put on the spot like that.

My dad has always been a man of few words. He has a quiet strength about him. He has never needed to dominate a conversation. His way of showing love is in quiet acts of service rather than words. I used to play at trying to get him to actually say “I love you” by telling him I loved him even though I knew it made him a bit squirmy. I knew it was uncomfortable and not his way, but once in a while he’d say it back anyway.

I always felt it though, without question. Every time we took a drive for a milkshake, just the two of us, it was an I love you. Every time we sat cuddled on the couch and watched a favorite TV show together after a day of struggling with pain, it was an I love you. Every time he changed the oil in my car, it was an I love you.

We had a special bond, partly due to the fact that I inherited migraines from his side of the family. He was the only one in our household that had any idea what I was truly going through from personal experience. My mom didn’t have them and I have one sibling that has never had a single migraine in his life. He won the genetic lotto in that regard. My dad never got them the same way I did or to the same degree, but he got them enough to understand me in a way others couldn’t. I guess that was why I had to ask HIM.

He thought for a moment. “We didn’t have any way of knowing how bad you would be. We’re sorry you hurt so much.” Then he asked me, “If you had known how bad you would feel, would you have still wanted to be here?”

I remember telling him that some days I wished I wasn’t. That it hurt too much, too often. That I wished I was like other kids. But I also told him that I had lots of fun on my good days and I wouldn’t really have wanted to miss those. I said I wanted to grow up so I could see what it’s like to get married and be a mom one day.

Now I don’t know if he knew what he was doing or if he was an accidental genius in that moment, but having me talk it over with him gave me the space to say out loud “No, I don’t always want to be here and feel like this.” I needed that. But it also made me reflect on all the positives about my life and my dreams for the future, the things that might just make the struggle worthwhile.

I have no idea if my dad even remembers the conversation or knows the impact it had on me. I, however, think about it all the time. You see, now I am the parent who has made the decision to bring children into this world. Children that may one day feel the pain I feel. Children that may one day look up at me and ask the question I pray they’ll never have to ask.

“Mom, if you had known I would turn out like you, would you have had me?”

I thank God that as of yet, neither one shows signs of migraine. I know they may develop them still, but my disease had already presented in a big way when I was younger than they are. So if nothing else, I take comfort in the hope that if they do end up getting migraines, hopefully they won’t ever be to the degree that mine are.

If my worst fears are realized and one or both end up with chronic debilitating migraines like me, I will be prepared. I will know what to do and what not to do. I will know how to be their fiercest advocate. I will not run from their hard questions. I have walked this road before them and I will walk it alongside them.

I have been training for this my entire life.