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I pictured myself as an energetic parent who would organize school events, wander through hands-on displays at exhibits alongside my children, and brave spinning rides together at fairs. In my younger years, I saw myself riding roller coasters next to my future kids and attending every outing from early grades onward. My own mother had joined mine, and I hoped to offer that same support.

Now my sons are 14 and 11, yet I have not become that parent. As my younger child wraps up elementary school, I have missed every class outing with both boys. The image of the involved mother I once held never came to life.

My multiple sclerosis diagnosis changed everything

At age 21, multiple sclerosis affected my nervous system. Before I could consider how this condition might reshape my future, it removed the chance to be the parent I had hoped for.

Once my older son started walking, I saw that my personal goals no longer fit. Family visits to museums or parks became possible only if my husband could handle duties when fatigue set in. I missed walking city streets in Philadelphia with their groups and could not manage the demanding pace while overseeing energetic students.

"Can you attend?" I asked my husband upon hearing about my older son's initial outing in kindergarten. "I want one of us present," I said. After my older son arrived, I left full-time work due to ongoing weakness, tiredness, and discomfort while aiming to raise the children directly.

My husband has taken extra shifts for 15 years to sustain us, so requesting leave for outings seemed unreasonable. Still, his presence eased the disappointment when I could not join. Maybe these events could become their shared activity? "Please, for me, can you join him?"

My husband has done many things with my kids that I had pictured for myself

He joined that first trip and every one after with both children during their elementary years. All the scenes I had planned, such as viewing displays at the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia, touring the National Constitution Center, enjoying a fifth-grade outing at Hershey Park, and riding coasters at Dorney Park to mark the end of elementary school, took place with him instead. I experience these through photos and short video chats rather than being there.

Much that once seemed out of reach is now possible, so holding onto regret feels small. It required 13 years for a diagnosis, during which my strength faded until walking became difficult.

I doubted I could cycle on trails with my children or complete a flat walk in the Catskills. I questioned whether I could help at parties or stand during talks at school fairs. Concerns arose about later Back-to-School Nights and navigating schedules with unsteady legs. I feared missing most events.

After diagnosis in 2017, care has enabled these activities. Thus I have come to terms with missing trips since other experiences have opened up. Knowing my husband filled in has eased that sense of loss.

This Father's Day, I thank my husband for serving as the lively parent who leads hikes and climbs rocks. He explores exhibits at the science center and handles rides despite his own balance changes. He sustains the enjoyment while I rest nearby or stay home.

He has become all I cannot, restoring my vision of parenthood.