You probably remember it,
that day when they
looked you in the eyes,
stack of notes in front of them
and told them what you
already knew but had hoped
would end up false.

"Your child is not normal,
and never will be."

A curse, couched in medical terms,
one deemed unliftable.
You must have wondered what
you had done that was
so bad that Fate had
decided to punish you in this way.

But, you weren't going to just
sit and let this curse stay,
spreading its roots over the
person your child was
supposed to be.
So even as the doctor spelled out
the details of this curse and you
took notes diligently you
steeled yourself for the battles to come.

Because there would be a war.
There was no other way.
Perhaps you had not wanted a child,
let alone one as burdensome as
this cursed child, but in the end
that meant very little.
She was still your child, and you still
loved her.

"And love means making sacrifices, doesn't it?
Then, to save her, we will make them."

This is what you believed, and so,
you fought the battles that you
hoped would someday save your child,
lift the curse that had been handed to you so
dispassionately on that day.
Endlessly, tirelessly, as the days went by.

"Your child is not normal,
and never will be."

That would not be true, you would not
let it be true, you were going to fight until
you were worn to the bone and then some,
to make sure it would not be true.

And as the days became weeks, months, years,
there seemed to be a softening.
Something of your efforts got through,
or so it seemed as you watched your
child stumble yet still reach the
milestones and targets she was meant to.
Proof, perhaps, that they were wrong,
that this was something that could
be lifted, that could be cured.

"Your child is not normal, and never will be."

In the end though, it turns out that,
no matter how hard you fought or how
much faith you had in this,
you were the ones who were wrong.
The curse remained, spreading its roots
over the person your child was
supposed to be.
Couched in medical terms, it was
a curse that could not be lifted, only one
that could be softened, just a little bit.

"But love means making sacrifices, and we did that.
Was that not enough?"

It never was going to be, no
matter how much you wished it.
You'll remember that day,
the day you were told this and you
were hoping it would not be so
despite knowing it was.
All that's left to do is wonder
just what you did that was so bad
that Fate decided to punish you in
such a manner.

Even with the breakthroughs that
your toiling produced, even with the
small steps forward that your child
seemed to be making, in the end,
the curse handed to you on that day
is still the same as it was then.

"Your child is not normal,
and never will be."

So now you have to wonder,
what, exactly, was the point of all this?