@myriamvonm
One week ago, Brad and I got married. ❤️ We kept it quiet on purpose. Just family, close friends, and the people who truly matter to us. This day didn’t belong to social media. It belonged to us.
When I look at this photo, I don’t see a wheelchair. I don’t see lupus. I don’t see pain. I see my husband’s hand in mine. I see trust. I see love. And I see two people who survived some very difficult storms to get here.
A year ago, I was sitting beside Brad’s hospital bed, holding his hand and praying that he would live. Today, I get to call him my husband. That still takes my breath away.
People told me to leave. To walk away. To give up. But I saw the man behind the disease. Just like lupus does not define who I am, alcoholism does not define who he is. Our illnesses are part of our story. They are not our identity.
Something else many people don’t know: on our wedding day, I walked down the aisle without my cane. Not because I wasn’t in pain. Not because I was suddenly healthy. But because for a few precious moments, love was bigger than the pain.
I couldn’t have a traditional first dance with my husband. And you know what? Nothing was missing. Because love isn’t measured by how long you can dance. Love is measured by who still holds your hand when you can’t.
This isn’t my first marriage. But with a certainty I’ve never felt before, I know it will be my last. Because never in my life have I felt so seen, so safe, and so accepted. With all my scars. All my flaws. And everything life has shaped me into.
And maybe that’s exactly what makes this the greatest love story of my life. ❤️