My Mommy & MS

No, silly goose. This is not an actual five-year-old little boy writing about his Mommy who has M.S.


But what if I were? What would I say about her? Would I tell you that to me, she’s just Mom?
The Mommy I’ve always known and grow to learn more about each day?

Or… would I tell you that sometimes she moves a little slower, or needs to sit down when other moms don’t? That sometimes she says, “Mommy’s legs feel funny today,” and I don’t totally understand what that means - but I know it’s okay, because she still smiles through it anyway.

Maybe I’d tell you that she’s the strongest person I know, even though she never calls herself that. That she still laughs too loud at her own jokes, still packs lunches, still tucks me in, and still makes me feel like I’m her whole world, even when her body doesn’t feel like her own.

Because that’s what it’s like, growing up with - or being - a mommy who has MS. It’s not just a diagnosis you live with. It’s a part of your family’s rhythm. It shows up quietly in the background of ordinary days, reminding you that strength can look like softness, and that courage can sound like “I’m tired, but I’ve got you.”

This blog is my way of sharing that story - not the shiny, filtered version, but the real one. The one filled with humor, frustration, gratitude, and love. Because while MS may shape parts of my life, it doesn’t define it. I’m still a mom. Still me. Just… a little more human than I used to be.

Because the truth is, some days I hate it. I hate waking up already so tired. I hate pretending I’m fine when my body feels like it’s completely betraying me. I hate feeling guilty for snapping at my kids when I’m running on actual fumes. And I really hate that MS gets a say in what I can or can’t do each day.

But this isn’t a pity party. It’s not an inspirational “look at me overcoming” story, either. It’s just… the truth. The truth about what it’s like to live in a body that doesn’t always cooperate, while trying to be the steady center of everyone else’s world.

MS is the quiet thief that sneaks into the little moments. It steals energy, steals confidence, sometimes steals patience. But it’s also the thing that’s forced me to slow down, to see life differently, to find gratitude in the cracks. I wish I could say I always handle it gracefully - I don’t. Sometimes I cry in the shower, or cancel plans, or feel like I’m failing at every single thing all at once.

But then my kid bursts through the door yelling “Mommy, come see this!” and suddenly, the noise in my head quiets - because it has to. That’s the thing about motherhood - it demands presence, even when you’re completely falling apart.

So I’m writing this for the people who are tired. The ones who are holding it together with coffee, humour, and sheer stubbornness. The ones who don’t feel “inspirational,” but keep showing up anyway. This is my space to be honest about all of it - the ugly, the funny, the beautiful, the broken - because maybe, just maybe, someone else out there needs to hear that they’re not alone in this mess.

My Mommy & MS. Bri Ott