A girlfriend gave birth last week to a healthy, 9-pound baby boy. In the process of getting an epidural to numb the pain of labor, she ended up with such excruciating spinal headaches, she was unable to rise from her bed to care for her newborn.
The chances of leakage of spinal fluid from the dura surrounding the spinal cord resulting in severe headaches is only about 1 out of 200. But when you are the one suffering, statistics are irrelevant. She said she cried, she prayed, she bargained with God to relieve the blinding headaches. She had moments when she wondered if she would survive if the pain continued.
Certainly, intermittent pain is unavoidable in our lives. It comes in a rainbow of forms: emotional, like the anguish accompanying grief or the ache of loss and sadness, and physical pain, which can be latent and chronic or acute and debilitating.
The worst pain can render us helpless. At its height, it forces us into submission. And millions of parents struggle to deal with serious pain while trying to care for their children. Mine is in my gut, and it comes in crashing waves. For the most part, I control it with diet and medication, but it can be paralyzing when it hits.
When it keeps me up at night, it makes my hands shake. It's hard to move, and I focus on breathing until each tidal wave passes. Fortunately, this pain does not appear very often, but when it does, it can be terrifying to have a part of your own body turn against you — twisting and burning with such force.
There is competing advice on how parents should navigate these waters. Some pain management sites say that while our instinct is to shelter our children from it, we should communicate, as honestly as possible, when we are hurting. Use simple language. Reassure children that it isn't their fault. Relate it to something in their own experience, such as falling off a bike. Speak calmly and quietly. Tell them you will get better, even if you're not sure when or how.
Most importantly, you have to be able to reach out for help. Let someone else take over the duties when you can't. For the times when pain is immobilizing, there's little choice. The immediate thought that crosses a mother's mind at the first signs of a sickness? I don't have time for this. How can you keep up with a toddler, preschooler or tween when you can't get out of bed? Needing help does not make us bad parents. Being able to accept an outstretched hand helps us recognize the value of our relationships. A friend came to the home of the new mother with the throbbing headaches and persuaded her to go to an emergency room. A medical procedure helped eliminate her pain within a few days.
From a different approach, webmd.com suggests finding ways to distract yourself from chronic pain. This is included in the list of tips on dealing with persistent pain:
"When you focus on pain, it makes it worse rather than better. Instead, find something you like doing — an activity that keeps you busy and thinking about things besides your pain."
Some parents in pain often wear a disguise. They manage to go through the necessary motions, without losing their temper, and the child may be clueless to the lengths taken to create such an artificial peace. A part of us whispers that we should keep our lonely sacrifice secret because it teaches us how to be strong.
If there is one thing mothers know, it is our capacity for strength. Through pain, we learn our capacity for humility. And, when pain subsides, it leaves us with a renewed appreciation for health.
Our children will inevitably experience their own hurts. Watching us deal with ours shows them how to handle their own.
I vividly remember my mother's moments of pain. When she was bedridden with asthma, laboring for each breath, I felt an ache in my own lungs. She did not have to say anything for me to recognize her struggle. I could not offer much to make her better, except to lie next to her periodically, bring her medicines and ask her if she wanted soup.
It was enough.
Humans need their pain to be recognized, ideally by someone who cares about the suffering.
