Once we both cooled a bit, I wondered if it was simply too weird for her to see me in my new environment. The hospital actually might have been more comfortable in some ways. It wasn’t a new reality, just a stopover. It was possibly my first realization that people who had known me once as an able-bodied person might feel uncomfortable around me. Maybe she also held some guilt for fighting with me or not attending the party that night, which is crazy. But the strangest part is that I think she saw the five of us together, who were all at the pool, and she felt left out of that bond. It would have been hard to break through it; we had a shared experience. The stronger my friendship became with the girls by the pool, the more difficult it was to maintain the flimsier ones. The girls by the pool became the gold standard, and not just in how they treated me, but in how they treated each other. It was really unbelievable and admirable to have witnessed the growth of our relationship.
Then on the other hand I had Sandra actually saying things in an e-mail like, “You don’t know how singled out I felt, to be the one who wasn’t there.” Maybe I would have felt left out in the same situation, but she should have been happy that she wasn’t part of that event. I’ve learned that I really don’t know how other people feel or how they should react. It has all been a good lesson in empathy. You just don’t really know what people are actually thinking inside. Maybe the four who were there filled up so much room in a positive way that my friendship with Sandra was one of the casualties of this accident.
It turned out she did feel guilty, which she later revealed. She wrote, “I don’t wish I was at that party. I did at first because I thought, if I was there could I have done something to prevent it? I felt guilty for not being there . . . but I felt like I should have been there. I thought, if I had been there what would have been different?” In her final note to me, she wrote something that startled me. She said, “You have no idea what it feels like to be the one person who wasn’t there to witness what happened, who you don’t even speak to anymore. I’m sure you’ve called all the girls who were there, but you haven’t called me at all.” It shook me up and we never spoke again after that. I wasn’t sure if the bond with the other girls had grown so large that maybe it blocked up space for other people to enter that circle. Either way, Sandra sadly wasn’t included in the new wedding plans.
I called the girls individually to make sure the date was okay with them and explained that, since it was being paid for, we’d get new dresses, too. That, of course, was very exciting to them. They didn’t love the original dresses.
As we made plans to wed, I also scheduled surgery to have what’s called a suprapubic catheter put in—a permanent tube that was to be inserted into my bladder and attached to a bag strapped to my leg. I was told it would be convenient because I could open it up myself and go to the bathroom by myself. There was still a bag attached and it would be a 24/7, like a ball and chain, but I was excited at the forward momentum of everything.
New dresses aside, everyone was ecstatic that we were finally going to have the wedding, but there was one concern among all of us. We’d navigated the murky waters of the press, careful to keep our promise not to reveal exactly what had happened that day. We had done a good job in protection mode as a team. But a televised wedding meant more coverage and more discussion. It meant all of our faces would be on TV. Of course, one girl in particular felt panicked at this prospect.
Today and 1-800-Registry decided to team up in a joint effort, and it was incredible that they’d both donate so much, but as we got into the planning, we learned that Today could air only a five-minute ceremony. Sadly, I realized that wasn’t for me. That was to be the most exciting part of the wedding, and I wanted to cherish it, not rush it for five minutes start to finish. I’d waited so long for it. I hated to miss the opportunity, but I would have rather had the wedding in the backyard than compromise the ceremony like that, despite how grateful I was for the show’s generosity. For me, the most important part was our vows. I didn’t want to be rushed for commercial break. A meaningful ceremony was far more important than being on television.
It also alleviated another concern—no faces live on TV. I told the girls of my decision and heard a collective sigh of relief.
I was sincerely appreciative of everything Today had done for my cause. They were the most wonderful people. And I was eternally grateful and happy that 1-800-Registry was still on board even if Today wasn’t part of the wedding anymore. So 1-800-Registry handled everything, and I was able to choose all of the details.
The planning began. Again.
CHAPTER 23
One Year Later
On the first anniversary of my accident, I was on the way back from an Abilities Expo in New Jersey. I had met the people at Colours Wheelchair, who had sponsored me and agreed to donate a really amazing wheelchair to me. I had attended the event to meet Rick Hayden, who ran the company and whom everyone called Big Daddy. I was going to choose the details for my chair. He was nice and hilarious and was the one who had asked me to be part of Team Colours originally, months earlier. I selected a blinged-out chair with spinners and suspension and was fitted, because anyone with an injury like mine needs a customized chair. They’re quite expensive, and I was honored to receive such a lovely gift. Also, I had hoped it would give me confidence because it was so pretty, with Aztec designs and bright blue colors, but the experience with the other girls I met on that trip tapped into some insecurities I hadn’t realized existed yet.
I was feeling a little shyer than usual meeting these beautiful Colours Girls. They were all paraplegics, and it was hard being the only quad among the little group. I remember feeling self-conscious, because I needed so much more help than all of them. I was fascinated by what they were able to do: They could easily transfer in and out of their chairs; they could lean over and just grab something off of the ground; they’d go to the bathroom together like any other group of girls. Their bodies didn’t even look paralyzed. They just looked like able-bodied people sitting down. They had no quad pooch, which I had developed; my belly protruded due to inactivity, and it made me look pregnant. And obviously their hands weren’t balled up like mine were.
What made me most self-conscious was that their hair and makeup were perfect. Mine used to always be perfect. I knew that if I could do my own hair, I could look just as nice. I knew how to do my hair better than anyone, obviously, because it was my hair. So while it was a great experience, it was also just a reminder of how disabled I really was. We all went out to dinner the last night, and I felt so not cute. My mom was there and she tried hard to help me get through it, but that night I was probably more sensitive than usual, and even though my hair did look nice, I felt insecure. These girls all looked hot. I wanted the use of my hands so I could look just as hot.
We came back from Jersey, and I was relieved that I was going to be able to see some of my friends. My mom brought back a giant cannoli from a New York–style deli, and we celebrated her birthday. Admittedly, there was a bit of sadness and negative energy in the room as we celebrated her birthday, but as I had hoped, the new chair eventually gave me a lot of confidence.
Looking back at the year that had passed, I knew a lot had changed and taken its toll on all of us, but through it all, I was certain my love for my family and friends had grown. Chris and I became more aware of what we had as well. We’d always been affectionate, but in the wake of the accident, after a year of being in it together as a team, we’d learned to be so grateful for each other and our love. After we returned home from rehab, Chris got into the habit of hugging me as soon as he walked in the door, a gesture I greatly anticipated each afternoon. We’d mindlessly done it before, but after the accident we did it with intent. At night, as we lay in bed, he would say, “I love you, sweetheart” and then I would rub his back gently until he started snoring. Each morning, he made my day by saying, “Good morning, beautiful.” We never left each other without a kis
s and an “I love you” exchange. None of that routine was lip service either, and I knew in my heart it would always be our way. The year that brought us so much tragedy had also enriched our lives. We never let one day pass without our special moments. We’d become painfully aware of how quickly and drastically life could change. No one knew what the next day would bring, so neither of us wasted time not loving one another fully or taking our love for granted.
Chris and I reaffirmed our love for each other. I was amazed by how many people found this difficult to believe. It made me think that many people, those who questioned whether he would stay with me, just don’t know love. Love clearly wasn’t as common as I thought it was. It was hard for me to imagine that just because of a physical problem, a perfect relationship between two people who loved each other wouldn’t work. I only wished more people had that love for each other and could understand what we had. If you asked someone who has lost a spouse to cancer or some other terrible disease if they’d take their deceased loved one back if they were in a wheelchair, they’d say yes without question.
I never set out looking for our love to be tested, but I was glad—and not remotely surprised—that it survived. I never expected my strength in general would be tested or that I’d be forced to push the limits of that strength, but I was given no choice. I was always a careful girl, and I thought I was doing everything right. I was safe, or I tried to be. I really didn’t have to think about strength before, whether I was or I wasn’t strong. If you’d asked me as a twenty-four-year-old, “Hey, how would you manage being a quadriplegic?” I’d have said, “I wouldn’t want to know. I don’t think I’d handle it well.” You just don’t know until you need to know.
CHAPTER 24
The Rehearsal
July finally arrived, and the Thursday before my wedding was the most hectic day. Mom and I were rushing around, and I was kind of stressed out. We had a lot to accomplish before we left town for the rehearsal and the wedding. I had to worry about my hair and my tan. I had had an opportunity to have hair extensions put on for free, but because of timing, I missed the window. So I was freaking out a bit, like any other bride, because I wanted my hair to be perfect. I had the actual hair extensions but no one to attach them. I found one guy who said he could do it for three hundred dollars, but that was way out of my price range. I didn’t expect it to be so challenging. Finally, after many frantic calls, I found someone who was available and who gave me a really great price.
For me, the wedding was not about the flowers, the food, or any of that. It came down to two things: One, I needed to look great. Before I got hurt I used to say all the time that I wanted to look good. I wanted it to be the same after the accident. I wanted to look as good as any other bride, knowing I would be upset if I didn’t. It wasn’t about having the perfect wedding day, but looking good still mattered. I wanted to look good enough that no one saw the wheelchair, that all anyone would say was, “What a beautiful bride.” Two, I needed Chris to be there. That was the bottom line.
Part of looking great meant that the tan and hair were integral parts of that equation. I had solved the hair problem, but the challenge of the tan was full of additional obstacles. I used to get spray tans all the time where you stand up and get sprayed. But that was when I was able-bodied. Luckily, I found a woman who would come to my home since we’d have to adjust the methodology a bit to get it done.
“Normally, we set up a tent so your home doesn’t get spray tanned, too,” she explained. “You’d stand up and I’d spray you.”
I laughed. “Obviously, I can’t stand up in the tent. We’ll have to figure something else out.”
She was so nice and not weirded out at all, which made me happy.
“I’ve seen a ton of people naked,” she said. “We’ll figure something out.”
We brainstormed a bit and decided to do it in my bedroom on the bed, with me lying down. It was a production and it took about an hour, because we had to spray and dry, spray and dry. I was flipped around, and at one point my mom had to hold up my legs one at a time so we could spray those.
In the middle of it all, Chris came home and had no idea that I was getting a spray, and no idea that there was a random person at my house in our room. He came in the bedroom and opened the door. He made the funniest face and said, “All right,” and closed the door and went downstairs.
After all of that, the tan was overly dark and I had to do a little scrubbing to lighten it up.
We had an intimate bridal shower at the wedding site, which was so nice. The wedding was being held on a dairy farm in Pittsboro, North Carolina, with a hotel on the grounds called the Fearrington House and community called Fearrington Village. There were cows in the field behind us while we got married, so you can imagine the setting. It was really country, which was what I wanted.
My shower was originally planned for the day after the bachelorette party. So I’d never had one. I wore a flowing maxi dress that was very casual. With all my extensions in, my hair was long and straight, very hippielike. The shower was in a beautiful room, set up on a terrace with windows all the way around. It was an open and elegant space with a Victorian look to the furniture. It had a big floral carpet with a large wooden table in the middle that held all the food. My mom brought a cupcake holder, and we had these hilarious drinking cups with noses drawn on the side of them. They were just plastic cups, but when you took a drink, it looked like your nose; some had mustaches, some had nose rings, and some were really big. We played a few games, such as “Who Knows the Bride Better?” and we all laughed when my mom guessed my eye color incorrectly. My eyes are hazel, and my mom wrote green. Lauren won the game. Britney was late and could come only for the rehearsal, but Samantha and Carly drove up together and made it to the lunch.
Coincidentally, all the girls matched. Lauren and Samantha were both wearing coral dresses, and Carly wore a tan dress with a coral flower in her hair, and a fifth bridesmaid I had added—a woman named Mayra who worked with Chris and had become friends with us—wore floral, too. By the time the rehearsal took place, it was a typical hot and steamy July evening.
During the rehearsal we all had a good laugh because Chris and I practiced our kiss, which I hadn’t really expected to be any kind of problem, since we’d kissed a million times before. It turned out to be the funniest part of the evening. I had no core muscles, so I couldn’t lean forward and kiss him or I’d fall right out of my chair. Carly wound up having to sort of block the chair so it wouldn’t roll backward at that very important moment. At the same time Chris had to hold my wrist to pull me toward him. He had to hold on firmly so I wouldn’t fall. I fell over a couple of times until we got the right balance. Chris caught me. Next we had to practice putting on the rings because I didn’t have finger function. He obviously put a ring on me, but I wanted to put his ring on him, too. We thought about it for a long time, trying to ensure it was meaningful. We finally came up with the solution to put his ring at the tip of my finger, then he’d connect his fingertip to mine and I’d slide it on—like a fake push from me, and he did the rest. Chris’s uncle Ron came up with that one. He was the minister performing the ceremony the next day.
After all the laughs and the rehearsal, I said goodnight to Chris. He kissed me and said, “I love you.”
I said, “I love you, too.”
He said, “I can’t wait to marry you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I remember thinking, Wow, this is finally happening. We were ready to be married. We had waited so long, and it was so exciting. It was fun getting his friends and my friends together and having this wonderful time that we’d never been able to have. I was thrilled that it was the last time I was going to see Chris before I could finally call him my husband.
That night, Carly, Samantha, and I all stayed together in one room. It was like a slumber party, and we had so much fun. Every time we were sort of drifting off to sleep, someone sa
id something, like when you’re fourteen and having a sleepover with friends and someone keeps talking. It was the greatest night.
CHAPTER 25
The Perfect Wedding
When I woke up on July 22, I was not jittery at all, but I had happy anxiety. It was my day, with my girls by my side. I was excited about my hair and my dress, and I was overjoyed that they were all there for me and were all going to be part of it. I had so many happy thoughts. We had people who had donated their time to fix our hair and makeup. One of the makeup artists was actually the wife of a local radio celebrity named Mike Morse. Chris listened to his show every morning and was a big fan. Our wedding planner knew him, and Mike offered to MC the wedding at the last minute. We’d already lined up a band and DJ, and now we’d also have Mike as our MC. It was a huge surprise for Chris. We didn’t tell him that Mike would be MCing our wedding and that his wife, Lindsay, did our makeup. She is highly requested around our area for makeup and he’s often requested for parties, so we felt like celebrities.
I have two really vivid memories of my group of girls. One, of course, was the night of the accident—that’s seared in all of our heads. But the other, the bookend of my thoughts of them, was on my wedding day in the early morning. Those girls were as important to that day as Chris.
We were all getting ready together in this really pretty little room. Lauren, Carly, Britney, Samantha, and I were all having our makeup and hair done, just like we had before we headed out dancing the night of the bachelorette party. We needed three hairstylists to keep things moving.
The Promise Page 11