He protested while I carried him inside, but I only had five minutes to get to class and I didn’t have time for him to walk.
“Have a great day,” I said, a little breathless from the walk-run action I just did.
I kissed Noah’s forehead and pushed him toward the classroom. He waved at me and disappeared inside.
I didn’t waste another minute. I flew back outside and hurried toward my car.
Speeding across campus, I pulled up to the science building right as class began. I hated being late, but I couldn’t miss class. When I reached the classroom, I peered through the window and saw that the professor had already started the lesson. I groaned and closed my eyes. Interrupting class wasn’t the way to make a good first impression.
With a deep breath, I pushed open the door slowly. I tried to make as little noise as possible. I stepped inside and pulled the door softly closed behind me. The click was still loud, but only a few people turned around.
I hurried to the first empty seat I could find. It was in the back row, but I didn’t care. I was just glad I made it before class ended.
Someone in my row handed me a syllabus and I mouthed a silent “thank you.” She nodded and turned her attention back to the front of the room. I read through the syllabus at lightning speed. It all seemed pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary. Once I was sure I understood, I tucked it in my bag and pulled out my notebook. With my pen in hand, I focused on the professor.
In reality, I probably didn’t miss anything important. By the time I started taking notes, the professor had only just begun the lesson. Still, I felt like a failure already.
Here I was on my first day of medical school at UConn and I was already behind. I shook my head to myself and scribbled furiously.
The students on either side of me took notes quickly as well. I looked around and smiled.
Everyone in the room was intensely focused on the professor’s words. This was the kind of classroom I wanted to be a part of. There were only about twenty students, but we were all there for the same reason: to become doctors. Our goal wasn’t just to get a degree and then forget everything we learned. We wanted to help people, to save lives. Everything we learned now would help us for the rest of our careers.
Now that I had arrived and class was underway, I let myself relax and enjoy the moment.
While I continued to take notes, I grinned widely. I couldn’t believe I was here. I made it to medical school. It took me years, but I did it.
I felt a wave of pride wash over me and my smile grew. If anyone looked at me, they would have thought I was crazy, but they didn’t know everything I went through to get to that moment.
After spending four years raising a son, I never imagined I would have the chance to study medicine. I put my dreams on hold and focused solely on Noah for so long that I almost forgot I was a real person.
My name was “Mom” and my job description was everything that went along with that name. Who cared that I once had dreams of my own? It didn’t matter anymore, not when my son needed new clothes or food to eat.
For four years, I worked nonstop to support Noah. I did the best I could, but I let myself go in the process. It had been years since I so much as cracked open a book. When my brother suggested I go back to school, I thought he was insane.
“I don’t have time,” I had told him.
There were too many things for me to juggle as it was being a single mom.
What would I do with Noah? How could I be both a full-time mom and a med student?
To me, the answer was simple: I couldn’t.
My brother didn’t let up though. When Joe got an idea in his mind, he ran with it. For months, he pressured me into applying. When I finally did, I never thought I would be accepted. I only sent in the application to shut Joe up.
Getting my acceptance letter felt like a dream. It felt like I was living someone else’s life. Even with the piece of paper in my hands, I couldn’t believe it was happening. I still wasn’t sure I could go.
After countless conversations with Joe, I decided to try.
We celebrated Noah’s fourth birthday and a week later, here I was, in my first class of medical school.
I was still grinning like an idiot when I turned over the first page of my notebook. I wished I had a computer to take notes on, I could already tell that my hand was going to be exhausted by the end of class. I stretched my hand and continued writing.
As the professor spoke, my mind had less chances to drift. The content became more complicated and I didn’t want to miss a single word. I made a mental note to bring a recorder to my all my classes this year. These lessons were too important, I couldn’t risk making a mistake.
I had sacrificed so much to just be in medical school. It was Noah’s last year before he started kindergarten and I had been looking forward to spending time with him. Now, I would see him less and less. This year would fly by and he would be in school in no time. The idea brought tears to my eyes, but I knew I was doing the right thing.
Noah deserved a mom who chased her dreams. Not one who sat around and lived a mediocre life. I had to teach him how to fight for things. I had to show what was truly important in life.