First Day Back at School: A Bittersweet Milestone

Today marks a significant day in our household—my daughter started 5th grade, and my oldest son embarked on his senior year of high school. It's one of those days that feels both exciting and bittersweet, with emotions running high for everyone. The house, once filled with the buzz of summer activities, is now eerily quiet, a reminder of the changes that come with each new school year. Soon, when my little one starts preschool, the quiet will become almost pin-drop silence. It’s a moment that feels both freeing and a little lonely.

This morning was especially sweet. My daughter was up super early, bubbling with excitement for her first day of 5th grade. She was ready on time, a rare feat in our household! She eagerly packed her new school supplies, carefully picked out her first-day outfit, and even started planning a little "First Day at School" party with a friend. I’m curious to hear what those plans entail when she gets home later today. Watching her enthusiasm makes me wonder how long this excitement will last—hopefully, it’ll carry her through at least a couple of months!

As for my oldest, he’s stepping into a new level of independence. At first, he didn’t want to drive himself to school, but now, it seems he’s taken a liking to the idea of driving every day. It’s a big step for him and a reminder to me of how quickly time passes.

But as my kids take on these new challenges, I find myself facing some of my own. It’s been a week since my surgery, and the last few days have been tough. The pain has been more intense than before, and I’ve spent most of my time in bed, feeling quite useless. There’s this nagging sense of guilt—no, not guilt, but shame. I recently learned that guilt is about feeling bad for something you did wrong, while shame is about feeling like you’re not enough. And that’s exactly how I’ve been feeling. I feel ashamed of not contributing, of just lying in bed while life goes on around me. It’s hard not to compare myself to the day right after surgery when I did more than I can now, a week later.

I appreciate all the help I’ve received, but there’s a part of me that just wishes I could do more—be more. This battle between aging, MS, and the expectations I place on myself is exhausting. There’s a thin line between what’s MS and what’s just part of the normal aging process, and it’s a constant struggle to navigate that line. The good news is that my pathology results came back normal. However, the pain, bleeding, nausea, and balance issues remain, grounding me back to reality when I want to be celebrating the joys of the first day of school.

Another worry that weighs on me is my daughter’s experience with bullying and racism. Last year was tough for her, and I’m concerned she might face the same challenges again. It’s heartbreaking to see her face these issues both at home and at school. But with the help of her therapist, she’s learning to embrace her uniqueness. She’s beginning to see that her beautiful skin color and black hair are things to be proud of, not something to wish away. I’ve even found myself wishing I had her gorgeous hair!

These negative thoughts, though, are hard to shake. They creep in, telling me that I’m not normal, that my family isn’t normal. But what does "normal" even mean? And why do we measure ourselves against this unrealistic standard? Having MS doesn’t make me abnormal—it makes me unique, just like how each MS patient experiences the disease differently. We share some symptoms, but each journey is our own.

Instead of focusing on what I can’t do, I need to remind myself of what I *can* do. Yes, I might be slower, wobbly, or forgetful, but that doesn’t make me less. It makes me strong, persistent, and resilient. I am a fighter, and so are my kids. We are able, we are unique, and that’s something to be proud of.

As I sit in the quiet of my home today, reflecting on the first day back at school, I’m reminded that while life is full of challenges, it’s also full of joy. And I’m determined to embrace both.