A life-altering injury to the one you're with is like being punched in the face every second you're awake until you accept it. Your mind races constantly with thoughts of little things that will always be different now. The information about the present situation is overwhelming. It feels like you're being run over by a train.
I remember walking along the sidewalk one night early on here, staring at the grass and bushes as I went by. It was everything I had in me not to throw myself down and sob until it all sunk in. I've often said that it felt like my whole life and my whole future with Aaron had been burnt to the ground. Everything I loved was gone.
But that just means everything from then on was to be new again. And while it feels like promises of a "normal" future were taken away, you have to accept that it wasn't yours in the first place. There were moments when I knew I was actually in hell, but those became fewer and far between. Not only were his legs gone, but some fingers and a lot of the mobility in his hands. We only have a hope that we'll ever produce a child, and there is almost none without full-blown IVF and sperm washing. If we're very, very lucky we can start that process next year.