Delivered straight from the hands of God,
for we were chosen especially for you.
"He's purple," I said,
then they took you away.
"Down Syndrome," they said,
As I lay in that bed.
Now what?
We questioned,
we read,
we loved you a lot.
"In denial," some said of us,
because we treated you normal.
What would they have us do?
We held you tight,
you showed us the world.
We learned,
and so did you.
Not normal?
How can that be?
Maybe he is more normal than we.
Whatever words they choose to use,
our son is what you'll always be.