People often tell me they don't know how I do it.
Sometimes they see me out with my wife and our four kids. Other times they come across a photo online or watch a video of me loading up the family for an adventure, navigating a trail, or simply trying to keep up with everyday life. The sentiment is usually the same: "I can't imagine." The truth is, there was a time when I couldn't imagine it, either.
When I was 19 years old, a car accident changed my life forever. In an instant, I went from being a healthy, active teenager to someone lying in a hospital bed with a C5-C6 spinal cord injury. Doctors explained that my life would never look the same and that there was a good chance I would need around-the-clock care for the rest of my life. At that age, those words felt impossible to process. I wasn't thinking about marriage, children, or what kind of father I might someday become. My focus was much more immediate. I was trying to understand how I would survive, whether I would regain any independence, and what my future would look like from a wheelchair.
Looking back now, it's hard to believe how differently life turned out from what I imagined during those early days. The young man who spent months in rehabilitation learning how to navigate life after paralysis could never have pictured himself sitting around a dinner table with four children. He couldn't have imagined helping with bedtime routines, loading up strollers, or embracing the beautiful chaos that comes with raising a family. Yet somehow, some of the greatest challenges of my life became the very things that prepared me for some of its greatest blessings.
Social media often gives people a glimpse into my life, but like most things online, it tends to show the highlight reel. People see family photos, outdoor adventures, and smiling faces. They see me out on trails with my kids or making memories with my family. What they don't see are the thousands of moments behind the scenes that make those moments possible. They don't see me waking up earlier because simple tasks take more planning. They don't see the medical supplies, the wheelchair maintenance, or the accessibility barriers that require constant problem-solving. They don't see the extra time, energy, and preparation that go into everyday activities that most people never have to think about.
There are days when I have to take time off work simply to get my wheelchair-accessible van serviced. There are days when a routine appointment requires hours of travel. There are moments when accessibility issues turn what should be a simple outing into a logistical puzzle. None of these things are impossible, but they require a level of planning that most people never see. By the time I arrive somewhere, I've often already overcome obstacles that no one else in the room knew existed.
Those challenges became even more meaningful when my wife and I started our journey toward parenthood. Like many couples, we dreamed about having children and building a family together. We assumed it would happen naturally. It didn't. What followed was a long and emotional road filled with fertility treatments, setbacks, disappointment, and heartbreak. We experienced moments when it felt like the future we envisioned might never happen. There were times when we questioned everything and wondered if we would ever have the opportunity to become parents.
Despite the challenges, we kept moving forward. We leaned on each other, continued searching for answers, and refused to give up on the dream of building a family. Eventually, we adopted our daughter, Charlie. I'll never forget holding her for the first time. In that moment, all of the waiting, uncertainty, and heartbreak suddenly felt worthwhile. Everything changed. Our house felt different. Our purpose felt different. We had finally become parents.
Then, life surprised us again.
Just a few months later, through embryo adoption, we welcomed triplets into our family. Overnight, we went from first-time parents to raising four young children. Our home transformed into a whirlwind of bottles, diapers, toys, schedules, and sleepless nights. There were four car seats, four unique personalities, and four little humans who depended on us every day. Most parents will tell you that one child changes your life forever. Imagine adding four children to the mix while navigating life from a wheelchair.
The truth is that parenting from a wheelchair isn't necessarily harder because of the wheelchair itself. It's harder because nearly everything requires a different approach. Tasks that many parents accomplish without thinking often require creativity, adaptation, and planning. Carrying a child, managing diaper changes, loading kids into vehicles, navigating playgrounds, or simply moving through crowded spaces all require solutions that I had to develop through experience.
Over the years, I've learned that adaptation becomes second nature. Living with paralysis teaches you that there is almost always another way to accomplish something. It may not be the traditional way, and it may not always be the easiest way, but there is usually a solution. That mindset became one of the most valuable tools I've carried into fatherhood. Rather than focusing on what I couldn't do, I learned to focus on what was possible. Instead of asking why something was difficult, I learned to ask how I could make it work. That perspective changed everything.
As our children grew, I found myself constantly adapting. I've modified equipment, built systems, and experimented with parenting tools that made daily life more manageable. Some ideas worked incredibly well. Others failed spectacularly. But every challenge taught me something. Every obstacle forced me to become more creative. Every adaptation created a little more independence. Over time, I realized that parenting isn't about doing things exactly the way everyone else does them. It's about finding what works for your family and showing up every day willing to figure things out.
Of course, that doesn't mean every day is easy. There are still days when my shoulders hurt. Days when transfers are more difficult that usual. Days when I'm exhausted from balancing work, family responsibilities, and the physical demands of living with a spinal cord injury. There are days when accessibility barriers pile up, when the kids are having meltdowns, and when it feels like nothing is going according to plan. On those days, the wheelchair can feel a little heavier – not physically, but mentally. Those are the moments when mindset matters most.
One of the biggest lessons I've learned since my injury is that your circumstances do not get the final say in your life; your mindset does. That doesn't mean pretending everything is okay or ignoring challenges when they arise. It means refusing to allow those challenges to define your potential. For years, people have looked at me and seen limitations. They see a wheelchair and immediately assume certain things aren't possible. What I've learned is that growth often hides inside adversity. The obstacle isn't always the thing standing in your way. Sometimes the obstacle becomes the thing that shapes you into the person you're meant to become.
If I had listened to every prediction about what my future would look like, I wouldn't have the life I had today. I wouldn't have my wife. I wouldn't have my children. I wouldn't have the opportunity to share my experiences with others or encourage people facing their own challenges. I wouldn't be living proof that impossible is often just someone else's opinion.
A huge part of the independence comes from having equipment that allows me to participate fully in life. People often ask me about my QUICKIE wheelchair, and the answer is simple: it gives me the freedom to be a dad. It's much more than mobility equipment. It's how I move through my home, how I get on the floor with my kids, how I travel, how I work, and how I stay involved in the moments that matter most. It allows me to focus less on getting around and more on being present.
When you rely on a wheelchair every day, you learn that independence isn't about doing everything alone. Independence is about having the right tools that allow you to live your life fully. My QUICKIE chair gives me the freedom to participate, contribute, and show up for the people who matter most. As a father, that's something I never take for granted.
As my children continue to grow, I know they'll remember that their dad used a wheelchair. But I hope that's not what stands out most when they think back on their childhood. I hope they remember the adventures we shared, the trails we explored, the bedtime stories we read, and the countless memories we created together. More importantly, I hope they remember the lessons that came from watching our family navigate challenges.
I hope they learn resilience. I hope they learn that obstacles can be overcome. I hope they learn that life's challenges do not determine what is possible. Most of all, I hope they learn that when things get difficult, you don't quit. You adapt. You adjust. You find another way forward.
At the end of the day, that's what parenting is really about. It's not about being perfect. It's not about having all the answers. It's about showing up consistently, even when you're tired, frustrated, or overwhelmed. It's about being present for the people who need you. It's about creating memories, building relationships, and making the most of the time you have together.
My wheelchair has changed many things about my life, but it hasn't changed what matters most. It hasn't changed my ability to love my family. It hasn't changed my desire to be involved. It hasn't changed by commitment to being the best husband and father I can be.
Every day isn't easy. Some days are messy. Some days are exhausting. Some days require more git than I feel like I have. But every night, when I tuck my kids into bed and reflect on the life we've built together, I'm reminded that every challenge, every adaptation, and every hard day has been worth it.
14 years ago, I couldn't imagine any of this. Today, I can't imagine life any other way.
About the author
Zac Wolfe became a wheelchair user after a car accident in July 2011. He quickly learned that he had two choices: continue to live his life and explore this beautiful world or let this injury defeat him. Zac chose to live and explore. Zac is a huge outdoors enthusiast and loves off-roading in his Jeep. He made it his life goal to help others keep pushing forward and see that anything is possible with a positive attitude. It may not be easy, but it is worth it. Throughout his 14-year journey in a wheelchair, he has overcome unthinkable obstacles. Zac has a beautiful wife and has been blessed with four beautiful children: Charlie, Knox, Noa, and Navie.
Zac's ride is a Quickie Nitrum and Empulse M90.
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