I met you one year ago, delivered by a kind stranger with my oldest son by my side. I reluctantly accepted your presence in my home. I felt sadness. Once I was alone for the evening, my family scattered about, I broke down. I documented the day in a tearful and heartfelt video I have shared with no one. I wanted to remember.
I had thought about this day for years. I fought it, dreaded it, and shed rivers full of tears thinking of this day: the day I would need you.
I stared at you, trying to decide if I liked the way I had designed you. I did. You were different, like me.
Little by little, we bonded. Unlike my scooter, you felt like one with me. An extension of my body.
Our first trip together was to New York City not long after you arrived, brand new. Together, we saw so much more than I could have without you.
Photo provided
It is not lost on me that you are not with me all the time. I still have time on my own two feet. I am grateful.
You are faithful. Always ready and waiting when I need you.
We have learned together how to transport laundry, cook, vacuum, and carry heavy things that I could never get from one area to another without you.
You have waited for me at the bottom of the “big hill” when my legs were like Jello.
We have danced together on the dance floor spinning round and round, even going on a few “joy rides” here and there.
I do not cry about you anymore. I sit proudly in you.
Because of you, I feel free. Confident.
You surprised me in the very best way possible.
You were not something to dread. You are a gift.
Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, wife, and mom of two boys. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.