I remember the first time we spoke to a specialist about my daughter Lucie’s mobility like it was yesterday. He was unbelievingly frank for a medical professional. In a world of maybes and possibilities, he gave us truth, and I really appreciated that. He spoke to us and explained in no uncertain terms that she may never walk.

What we came away with was a list of things for us to do. From mobility aids, to a range exercises, with a lot of encouragement required. The list of things for us to try seemed endless, but today we go to the end of them.

Of course, we knew it. We were aware that the writing was on the wall, but nothing prepares you for it. You see, today was the day that we had to be honest and admit that Lucie does not want to walk any more.

Not in the sense that she has no desire to. She wants nothing more than to run around with her friends. Mere weeks ago, she sat and laughed as her cousins surrounded her. Giving chase to each other, and playing games like all children do. None of which she could join in with.

The desire still burns in her soul, but the cost is too much to bear. For each journey unaided, she must pay a toll in energy spent and pain received. Her body just can’t do it any more.

So, my readers, we tried our best. We ticked each and everything off that list, added a few more ourselves, to keep her going. Though tears and pain, and joy. We got her walking for a while, and I’m so proud of her for that. Unfortunately, for Lucie, the end of the list came today.

I did try my best. I swear with all my heart, I really did. But it wasn’t enough to keep that little girl on her feet — and for that, I’m truly sorry.