The Promise: A Tragic Accident, a Paralyzed Bride, and the Power of Love, Loyalty, and Friendship (18 page)

When I was in college, I took a class called inclusive recreation. We had to complete volunteer hours that were relevant to the course, so I chose to assist with the annual adapted sports day at ECU. It was a program that allowed people with all kinds of disabilities to try out different adapted sports and activities. I vividly remember trying out wheelchair tennis. I couldn’t wait until it was my turn to get into the wheelchair and hit some balls with a wheelchair user. I don’t think many people can say that they’ve done that kind of class and then ended up a quad.

I’ve almost taken on a new identity. I used to define myself by that active part of my life, and suddenly it has all disappeared. My grace and ability to dance dissolved in the water. I am like a rag doll moving to music—no more hip-hop classes, no more ballroom dancing lessons. My hands are balled up, and my legs have atrophied.

It has been difficult to accept a deteriorated appearance, too, not just deteriorated function. I didn’t expect so much atrophy. It’s happened to not only the muscles in my legs, but also the muscles in my chest—and that means my boobs. I’ve gone from having a solid B-cup to buying bras in the kids’ section. My feet swell up like balloons, too. My hair used to fall out in chunks and sometimes I had to wear wigs. I have to hide a lot with leggings and tunics and boots. A lot of sexiness was taken away, but I work on making sexy a state of mind. I work with what I have, and I try to make myself feel good about things. Sometimes just a little eyeliner and lip gloss change my day.

I can’t say I love this new body because I’d be lying. That’s a happy universe that I have not reached, and in reality I may never get there. I will say that I have made a huge effort to define my love for myself based on what’s on the inside. I think once you start really loving who you are, your confidence and positive vibes will be apparent to those around you. And you know what’s really sexy? Confidence. I was kind of a sexpot before my injury, so it has really been about getting my sexy back and reclaiming that confidence that I believe allows me to show my inner vixen again. That’s not specific to women who are injured. It’s something women in general should remember.

That’s why I want to tell people who complain about superficial things to cut themselves a little break. I was fit, but I picked myself apart and focused on the negative things about my body, not the positive. We always judge ourselves, whether we’re a supermodel or not. If I knew then how awesome and flat my stomach was, I would have gone easier on myself. I’ve had to accept, too, that without the use of my hands, I can’t do my own hair. That is at the top of the list of things I wish I could do. Britney still comes over sometimes to help me with my hair. She lives close enough that she can do that, and I love that she’ll stop by if I need her. I have figured out with the bending of my wrist how to grip cosmetics enough to actually do my own makeup. It wasn’t easy to master, and some days I didn’t look exactly like I wanted to, but now I’d say I do a pretty darn good job.

© Revolution Studios of North Carolina

© Revolution Studios of North Carolina

© Revolution Studios of North Carolina

There are so many girl things that are impacted by this chair, such as my desire to be a mother. I face a lot of hurdles, such as weaning myself off certain meds. I have to do that gradually to get ready to have a baby, so that’s hard. I am on pain meds that I don’t want to be on when I am pregnant, but my main concern is the medication that keeps my blood pressure up. It constricts the veins, which isn’t good when blood is trying to get to your baby. In the first two months of pregnancy, the veins need to open up even more. I already have low blood pressure, so imagine taking that medicine away. What might happen in those two months when my veins are open even more? It will be a major challenge. It’s not this difficult with most spinal cord injuries. I have added health issues, and therefore I have to find doctors who specialize in my situation. Even though I am struggling with doctors’ bills, I know my family and Chris’s family will not let anything get in the way, because they want us to have this baby. They’ll support us financially as best they can. Ideally, if I had $80,000, I could have someone else carry it. This would be the best option for me, and I so wish I had the finances to do it, but I don’t. And I would never ask a friend to be our carrier. I don’t want anyone to offer out of guilt. It’s not something anyone I know would be interested in, and I would never put them on the spot like that.

I am afraid of getting pregnant: It’s not bad for the baby, but it’s bad for me. I think my lifestyle change will be dramatic. I won’t move for months. I may be in bed for months, because I likely won’t be able to sit up due to my low blood pressure. When I’m lying down my blood pressure is higher. Sometimes I can’t sit up or I’ll feel like I’m going to pass out. It happens to me now. I have that feeling, and then I just take my meds and lie down and wait for them to kick in. Then I’m usually okay. If I’m not on the medication, as long as I’m lying down, I won’t pass out. Still, even though it would be nine months of hell, this is something I really, really want and something Chris wants, too. I’m not willing to give that up just to avoid being bedridden for a few months out of my entire life.

The hurdle right now isn’t the fear of being in bed; it’s the fear of getting off of my medication. I want a baby now. I wanted it yesterday. But I have to get over that mental block and get off the meds. I’ve had an initial conversation with the doctor and I’m on prenatal pills, which I need to take for six months. So we’re prepping. We’re a year away from trying.

I used to want one boy and one girl, but I’ll probably be able to have only one child. I think pregnancy will be hard on my body, so one will be it for me. And that’s okay. Financially, it will likely be out of reach for us to have more than one. Everyone in my family knows how important this is for us, and they’re going to do everything in their power to help us through.

My girlfriends are so excited. They have told me they are ready to be aunts and to help spoil my child. I think they’re not quite ready to be mothers themselves, so this will be fun for them, too. They’ve all expressed a lot of concern over the way in which I’ll have to exist during the pregnancy, the pain and being stationary, but I think that with them around, I’ll get through it. I know they’re excited because they pretty regularly say, “What’s the status of our niece or nephew?”

Lauren comes from a big family and we’ve talked a lot about kids, but she’s just not ready yet to have a baby. I’m thinking I’ll be the first one of our little group. I’m ready to get started. But she will eventually have children, and we both know it will be fun when we can share that experience. I hope our kids are close friends the way she and I are. I hope all of our kids maintain the bond we all have with each other.

It was an exhilarating feeling being pushed by the ocean like that. I felt free and strong as the wave caught me and carried me to shore. I had never surfed before the accident, just bodyboarded. The feeling was similar. But this time, it felt like more of an accomplishment for me.

People ask me all the time if I’m afraid to go swimming or if I’m afraid of pools or the water in general. I get cold so easily now, so the water has to be really warm for me to go in, like the ocean on a hot summer day, or a therapy pool. But afraid? I’m not afraid at all. There’s really nothing to be afraid of. I’m not afraid of what lies ahead for my life. I carry no grudges and no blame. I have no fear or anger toward the pool. It’s not the pool’s fault or the water’s fault or her fault. It’s one of those things that was no one’s fault. I don’t blame the water or the floor of the pool, and I certainly don’t blame her. It’s also pretty clearly not going to happen again. So, despite it all, I still love the water. I grew up by the water.

I can still feel water on my shoulders and my face when I’m submerged, and there’s a space on the inside of my arms where I can feel it, too. Instead of dwelling on what I can’t feel, I concentrate on what I can feel, the places where I do feel the touch of water. It’s not weird to me anymore, the way it was that night in the pool or when I first showered in rehab, where the water was dripping down from a shower but I couldn’t feel it. I’m so aware and appreciative of the little things that I can feel—the water on my neck, or my wet hair. I love the feeling of the water, the ocean, and the sand. I love it all, still.

Surfing was a dream come true for me. Life got harder for me, but my life is not over. Still, I’d rather surf standing up. I have a list of things I dream of doing one day if a cure ever becomes a reality in my lifetime, things I probably took for granted before the accident. Chris once said it was hard to remember back to when we just walked out and got into the car. I’d give anything to do that again. That, and a lot of other things, too. They aren’t extravagant adventures, but everyday things I barely thought about before the accident. I want to do a cartwheel again, throw a football, and play tennis. I want to bodysurf, dance in my husband’s arms, and climb a tree. Someday, I hope to walk my dog, style my own hair, and do sit-ups.

Mostly, I dream that one day when Chris holds my hand, I will be able to hold his right back.