This excerpt from Les Miserables by Victor Hugo draws my thoughts to mothers, especially those caring for chronically ill children.
To be served in distress is to be caressed. Does he lack anything? No. One does not lose the sight when one has love. And what love! A love wholly constituted of virtue! There is no blindness where there is certainty. Soul seeks soul, gropingly, and finds it. And this soul, found and tested, is a woman. A hand sustains you; it is hers; a mouth lightly touches your brow; it is her mouth; you hear a breath very near you; it is hers. To have everything of her, from her worship to her pity, never to be left, to have that sweet weakness aiding you, to lean upon that immovable reed, to touch Providence with one's hands, to be able to take it in one's arms, -- God made tangible,-- what bliss!