“Would you like to have a movie day with Mommy upstairs this morning?” I ask in a cheerful tone, hoping to lift the mood.
“Yay! The Grinch! No school today, right, Mama?” my inquisitive 4-year-old son replies, tilting his head in confusion.
“Not today, sweetie. Mommy’s feeling too much pain to drive you to school right now. Can you come upstairs and rest with me?”
My little one reaches out with his soft, tiny fingers, intertwining them with mine. “Yes, Mama. I’ll hold your hand,” he says, bringing me a momentary sense of comfort.
As we slowly ascend the stairs, I hunch over, trying to stifle the tears that threaten to spill. I can put on a brave face, pretending that my battle with endometriosis isn’t affecting my life, but the reality is stark. This invisible illness doesn’t showcase its impacts through visible signs, aside from a few scars on my abdomen—a reminder of past surgeries.
The pain, rooted deep within my reproductive organs, can strike at any moment. For many, it’s most acute during ovulation, PMS, or menstruation, yet it can incapacitate me for days at a time. It’s far from “just cramps.” It’s an excruciating pain that feels like the worst cramps multiplied a million times over. Over-the-counter pain relief barely touches the agony that many of us endure.
Endometriosis has previously kept me from fulfilling everyday responsibilities—working, running errands, cooking meals, and exercising—but not being able to take my child to school feels like a new low. Watching how my condition affects my son is heart-wrenching; guilt washes over me, making me feel like a failure as a mother.
As we reach the top of the stairs, I want to cry out from the pain. It’s akin to the relentless contractions of labor—one long, unyielding squeeze of discomfort. Each step intensifies my dizziness and emotional strain. I remind myself to focus. “Just get to the bed,” I chant internally. “If something happens to Mommy, like I fall or can’t wake up, go outside and find a neighbor, okay?”
I know that as soon as he steps outside, our home alarm will trigger and alert emergency services. I can’t bear the thought of him trying to rouse me if I were to lose consciousness. The idea of him witnessing me fall is too much to bear—he would be terrified.
Once we finally reach the bed, my son quickly starts the movie. I’m grateful to be lying down, reducing the risk of a fall in front of him. As the film plays, he snuggles close, but his worried expression pierces my heart.
“Is it because you’re bleeding from your butt again?” he asks, having missed some details during our previous explanations about my periods.
“Yes,” I respond gently.
“Will I bleed from my butt when I’m older?” he inquires innocently.
“Well, kind of. You’ll bleed from your vagina, but it won’t hurt like Mommy’s pain,” I clarify, though I know that’s not entirely true.
In endometriosis, cells that typically grow inside the uterus start to develop outside of it, impacting the ovaries and bowels. These growths can lead to chronic pelvic pain, debilitating periods, and even infertility. Research indicates a genetic link, making endometriosis hereditary.
As much as I wish to shield my children from my suffering, I can’t hide the toll it takes on me. I strive to be a voice for this disease and advocate for increased research, hoping to spare my children and other future generations from this debilitating condition.
My kids understand that I’m not weak, and that sentiment extends to countless other women fighting this battle. Notable figures like Lena Dunham and Padma Lakshmi have also shared their experiences with endometriosis, proving that strength can emerge from struggle.
Despite our efforts to raise awareness, many medical professionals still dismiss the pain of endometriosis sufferers, perpetuating harmful misconceptions. Imagine a young girl, newly navigating puberty, doubled over in agony while hearing, “You can handle it” or “It’s not that bad.” This is the painful reality for far too many.
We need to shift the conversation surrounding endometriosis. We must support sufferers, advocating for better treatments and research. Sharing our stories will foster connection and solidarity. This March, during Endometriosis Awareness Month, let’s commit to helping women and mothers affected by this disease. Together, we can work towards finding treatments and ultimately a cure.
By raising awareness now, we can protect future generations of girls from facing the same struggles. There’s still hope for a life free from the burdens of endometriosis.