Seven in the morning meant Lucas needed his muscle relaxants. Fifteen minutes later came Noah’s seizure medication. By eight we were already working through stretching routines for stiff muscles, preparing for a day that would demand more from my body and my spirit than most people could imagine from the outside.
By nine in the morning I had already put in more effort than many people do in an entire workday.
And the day had barely started.
How Our Lives Changed in an Instant
Three years before all of this, we had been a different family entirely.
Mark and I had two healthy, energetic twin boys who filled our house with noise and mess and the particular exhausting joy that comes with raising children who are always in motion. Lucas and Noah were nine years old, full of opinions and arguments and the endless physical energy of boys that age.
Then came the accident.
Mark was driving them home from school when the crash happened. The boys survived, but the injuries they sustained changed the course of all our lives permanently. Lucas lost significant function in his legs. Noah suffered brain trauma that required constant supervision and ongoing care that could not be managed without someone present at nearly every moment.
Our home transformed almost overnight into something between a medical facility and a rehabilitation center.
Physical therapy appointments filled the calendar. Wheelchairs, bath chairs, adaptive utensils, and medication schedules replaced the ordinary clutter of family life. My days became organized entirely around the needs of two growing boys who depended on me for nearly everything.
I loved them without reservation. I never questioned that.
But exhaustion is real regardless of how much love accompanies it. Most nights I slept in three-hour stretches when I was fortunate. Sometimes less.
The Promises That Kept Me Going
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