Us, Still: This Is What Love Looks Like Now

When my husband became a paraplegic, life split into before and after. Same people, same love, but nothing about our days is the same.

The first morning home, helping him into his chair, we both laughed at how clumsy it was. Then I cried in the bathroom because the life we knew was gone.

The little things sting—groceries, fixing things, even opening jars. For a while, I carried it all and felt crushed. But then I saw him finding new ways to pitch in—helping with chores, taking on what he could from his chair. We’re still a team—just different.

The world isn’t built for wheelchairs. The first time we tried to eat out, we ended up at a table that was too short for his chair. Now we usually just go through the drive-thru and eat in the van or bring it home. It’s not fancy, but we make the best of it. And honestly, that’s okay—because we’re doing it together.

There’s a constant mental checklist in my head now—ramps, bathrooms, meds, energy. It’s invisible but heavy.

And yet, there are wins. His determination to learn to drive again in an adaptive modified van. Finding a trail we could both enjoy. Laughing over jars I still can’t open. Those moments feel bigger now.

This life is hard. It’s exhausting. But it’s still ours. He’s still my husband. We’re still us—just changed. And that’s enough.

💬 This post is part of my series, Us, Still—an honest look at how life and love have changed since my husband became a paraplegic. If you’d like to walk with us through this journey, stay tuned for the next piece.