Nothing I do will ever be enough for my special needs child. No amount of physical therapy, feeding therapy, speech therapy or occupational therapy will ever bring my daughter to the level of functioning required to perform basic adult tasks.

This is my daily reality, even as we work through these therapies and utilize the accompanying equipment. I’ve accepted this, and it’s my normal. We are happy.

But every once in a while, this truth slams into me hard enough to knock my breath out.

A few days ago, my daughter had a rough day and vomited several times in the afternoon—not unusual for her—and then fell into an exhausted sleep. I put her down for nap and went to clean up the mess.

When I heard her wake up, I went into the closet where she sleeps and felt all the wind go out from my sails. I sank down next to her crib and cried over the impossibility of this situation and grief for the life I’d dreamed of for my daughter.

Then I picked myself up, because I’m the mom. And I gathered her up in my arms to find that she’d thrown up in her bed. I picked her up and she was limp and listless. A few hours later, we were in the ER. Again.

Unlike the previous week’s hospitalization, this ER visit ended up not being too serious and we had no admission. But as things go in healthcare, it was a long time waiting around for this or that. My husband eventually had to leave to pick up our older son and put him to bed. Brielle fell asleep. So it was just me and my book, Trapped in Yosemite by Dana Mentink, which is a romantic suspense story about a single mom.

I opened the book, pulled out my bookmark and read:

“The day had been endless, terrifying, heart wrenching and everything in between. She was depleted, mind and body, but there was still a baby to be tended.

And that was a fact with which she grappled on a daily basis. What if she didn’t have enough resources, physical and mental, to meet Hannah’s needs? What if she wasn’t strong enough, smart enough, brave enough?

You aren’t but God will give you enough, one day at a time, like He’s been doing.”

I promptly dissolved into tears. It was as if the author had seen me, knew my daily fight and deepest fears, and had found the right words to speak truth into my life.

This is why I read fiction.

Yes, there is an entertainment element. It’s a great way to unwind at the end of the day. And a good rom com is just right for escapism during a hospital stay.

But more importantly, fiction holds truths we need to challenge us, embolden us, and speak to our hearts during the darkest nights of our souls.