My 9-year-old son, River, pushes a shopping cart at Trader Joe’s, and I push my wheelchair beside him. When we get to the produce section, I grab a few apples and a bag of Persian cucumbers, and try to snag the last container of strawberries but it is out of reach. Without missing a beat, River stands on tiptoes to pick it up and place it in the cart. As we head to frozen foods, he leads the way and I watch him. “He’s getting so tall,” I think. I know it’s cliche, but kids grow up so fast. 

After we check out, I take one of the grocery bags on my lap and River carries the other. We load them into my Subaru Outback and I transfer into the driver’s seat. River takes my manual wheelchair and lifts it into the trunk.  

On the drive home, I ask River how he feels about helping me. “I love doing it because it makes you smile, and that’s all I care about,” he says. It’s a sweet answer, but I’m suspicious. He might be buttering me up to buy him Robux  online game credits — which I totally will. I’m a pushover. Then he adds that he likes going places with me because one day I might be in danger. “Someone could easily knock you out of your wheelchair and steal you,” he says. “I’ve got to be very cautious about that. If that happens, I will knock them out and save you.” I think we’ve been watching too many superhero movies.  

The Early Years 

When River was a baby, I never took him anywhere on my own. Getting him in and out of his car seat was difficult. And the thought of having to carry him and navigate my wheelchair once we got somewhere made me anxious. I tried different baby carriers and wraps, but River was a big baby, and I struggled getting him into them. Also, having to deal with people’s stares and weird comments felt exhausting. “I hope you get better soon. I’m praying for you. You’re my hero,” are things I normally hear. I could only imagine what they’d say if they saw me with a baby. 

I hated that I couldn’t be fully independent with River. I’ve always placed so much value on being able to do things on my own, especially after I became disabled from a car crash when I was 14. I broke my back and have an L2 spinal cord injury. Before River was born, my husband, Ali, and I put a lot of thought into what I’d need to be able to take care of a newborn. Ali built a custom changing-table that I could roll my wheelchair under, which gave me better leverage when I was changing and picking River up. We found a crib with a side gate that folds down to make it easier for me to get River in and out.  

After River was born, Ali was only able to take one week off work. I treasured the alone time with River, but the days were long and exhausting. I had postpartum anxiety, was sleep-deprived and had trouble breastfeeding. I felt isolated and stuck. I longed to connect with other moms and researched “mom groups” in our area, but they met at parks where they would push their babies around in strollers. I didn’t think I would fit in. We hired a nanny to help with River a couple days a week, and that helped. I enjoyed her companionship and our outings together. She would push River’s stroller around our neighborhood while I rolled beside them with our German shepherd. 

People Helping People 

The thing with babies is that they don’t stay babies forever. River was continually growing and developing, and for him, me being disabled was the norm. He learned to pull himself up by grabbing onto the front bars of my wheelchair, and learned to walk by holding onto the back bar and pushing me around the house. At the same time, I was becoming more confident as a mom. I adapted and learned tips and tricks, like keeping a breastfeeding pillow on my lap to make it easier for me to hold and transport River around the house. 

With time, getting River in and out of his car seat grew more manageable, and I remember the first time I took him somewhere by myself. We went to our local library, and River sat on my lap while I pushed us around to pick out books.  

Now that he is 9, he doesn’t physically need me the way he used to. Now, he helps Ali and me by bringing in groceries, taking out the trash and helping with yard work. Currently, the most challenging part of being a mom has nothing to do with my disability — it’s keeping River fed because he’s always hungry, and managing his screen time. River grew up surrounded by technology, and if it were up to him, he’d watch YouTube and play video games all day long. My parent-friends and I are always telling the kids they need to “touch grass,” meaning that they are spending too much time online and need to get outside to reconnect with the world. 

There will always be things I can’t do with River. I’d love to be able to take him to the beach park next to us so we can play in the sand and splash around in the lake, but it isn’t accessible. Instead, a mom in our neighborhood offers to take him with her kids, and I know he’ll have a great time. I also find comfort in all the cool things that Ali and River do together. They go mountain biking and snowboarding, and Ali is very involved in River’s lacrosse team. 

I ask River if he ever wishes I weren’t disabled. “Yeah, sometimes. I would love to run, and race, and play tag with you,” he says. “But I love having a mom who has a wheelchair, because if my legs break, I can always borrow one of your wheelchairs.” 

I don’t take for granted all the things I can do with him, like cuddling and reading to him in bed; going on rolls together around the neighborhood, pushing my chair while he pedals his bike; building Legos; and being silly while listening to music and dancing around our house. 

Next week, River and I are flying to my dad’s and stepmom’s house. I don’t worry about taking him places on my own anymore. In the airport, I’ll have my backpack on the back of my wheelchair, and River will wear his while he rolls our luggage and lifts it up onto the belt at security. If I need help with anything while we travel, I know who I’ll ask. We can’t wait to spend time with family and swim together in their pool. “I love going places with you, Mom,” says River. “We have so much fun together, and sometimes we see weird stuff that makes us laugh.” 

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Other essays in the Parenting From a Wheelchair series:

• Lessons About Frustration, Disability and Wanting it All
• Safety, Boundaries and Fun as a Wheelchair-Using Parent
• Year One of the Ewan Experience
• Keeping Up with a Mobile Toddler
• Explaining Disability to Our Kids

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