Navigating an Inaccessible World with My Son

My 9-year-old son, River, pushes a shopping cart at Trader Joe’s, and I push my wheelchair alongside him. When we get to the produce section, I grab some apples and a bag of Persian cucumbers, and I try to grab the last container of strawberries, but it’s just out of reach. Without missing a beat, River stands on his tiptoes to pick it up and place it in the cart. As we head to the frozen foods, he’s ahead, and I look up at him. “He’s growing so much,” I think. I know it’s a cliché, but kids grow so fast.

After paying, I take one of the shopping bags onto my lap and River carries the other. We load them into my Subaru Outback and I transfer to the driver’s seat. River grabs my manual wheelchair and lifts it into the trunk.

On the way home, I ask River what he thinks 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 response, but I’m suspicious. He might be flattering me into buying him Robux. online game credits, which I will do without hesitation. I’m a pushover. He then adds that he likes to go places with me because one day I might be in danger. “Someone could easily knock you out of your wheelchair and rob you,” he says. “I have to be very cautious about that. If that happens, I’ll 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 alone. Getting him in and out of his car seat was difficult. And the thought of having to carry him and maneuver my wheelchair once we got somewhere made me anxious. I tried different carriers and slings, but River was a big baby and I had a hard time putting him in them. Plus, having to deal with people’s weird stares and comments was exhausting. “I hope you get better soon. I’m praying for you. You’re my hero” were things I often heard. I could only imagine what they would say if they saw me with a baby.

I hated not being able to be completely independent with River. I always placed a lot of importance on being able to do things on my own, especially after I became disabled due to a car accident 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 would need to be able to care for a newborn. Ali built a custom changing table that I could put my wheelchair under, which gave me better leverage when changing and picking up River. We found a crib with a side door 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 a week off from work. I cherished the alone time with River, but the days were long and exhausting. I had postpartum anxiety, sleep deprivation, and trouble breastfeeding. I felt isolated and stuck. I longed to connect with other moms and looked into “mom groups” in our area, but they met in parks where they wheeled their babies around in strollers. I didn’t think I would fit in. We hired a babysitter to help with River a couple days a week, and that helped. I enjoyed her company and our outings together. She pushed River’s stroller around our neighborhood while I rolled alongside them with our German Shepherd.

People helping people

The problem with babies is that they don’t stay babies forever. River was constantly growing and developing, and for him, the fact that I was disabled was the norm. He learned to pull himself up by holding onto the front bars of my wheelchair, and he learned to walk by holding onto the back bar and pushing me around the house. At the same time, I was gaining more confidence as a mother. I adapted and learned tips and tricks, like putting a nursing pillow on my lap to make it easier to hold and carry River around the house.

Over time, it became easier to get River in and out of his car seat, and I remember the first time I took him anywhere alone. We went to the local library and River sat on my lap while I pushed us around to pick out books.

Now that he’s 9, he doesn’t need me physically like he used to. He now helps Ali and me by bringing in groceries, taking out the trash, and helping with yard work. These days, the hardest part of being a mom has nothing to do with my disability—it’s feeding River 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. My parent friends and I always tell kids that they need to “touch the grass,” meaning they spend 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 would 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’s not accessible. Instead, a mom in our neighborhood offers to take him with her kids, and I know he’ll have a blast. I also take comfort in all the cool things Ali and River do together. They mountain bike and snowboard, and Ali is very involved with River’s lacrosse team.

I ask River if he ever wishes I wasn’t disabled. “Yes, 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 I break my legs, I can always borrow one of your wheelchairs.”

I don’t take for granted all the things I get to do with him, like cuddling and reading to him in bed, going for walks around the neighborhood together, pushing my chair while he pedals his bike, building Legos, and just being silly while we listen to music and dance around our house.

Next week, River and I are flying to my dad and stepmom’s house. I’m no longer worried about taking him places alone. At the airport, I’ll carry my backpack on the back of my wheelchair, and River will carry his while he rolls our luggage and loads it onto the carousel at security. If I need help with something while we’re traveling, I know who I’ll ask for help. We’re looking forward to spending time with family and swimming together in their pool. “I love going places with you, Mom,” River says. “We have a lot of fun together, and sometimes we see weird things that make us laugh.”

Other essays in the Parenting from a Wheelchair series: