In 1998 I was enjoying being a young mother. But I panicked one day when I realized that my six-month-old son made whistling sounds when he breathed and couldn’t swallow anything. The doctor immediately diagnosed bronchiolitis, a swelling of the smallest air passages in the lungs usually caused by a viral infection. He prescribed both medication and physical therapy.
The visits to the physical therapist were a trial for my son and me. My son was uncomfortable being moved in every direction, and I worried that the therapy caused him pain. I took courage, however, when the therapist explained the benefits of therapy.
Despite the medical treatment and the therapy, my son’s condition didn’t improve. He ate little, and the whistling continued. The doctor prescribed 5 more sessions with the physical therapist in addition to the 10 we had already attended.
While I waited during the 13th session, I read an article posted in the doctor’s office titled “Bronchiolitis Kills.” As I read, I realized that my son could die. I felt as though my heart was in a vise. At the end of the session, the therapist told me that my son’s condition wasn’t improving. I’m not sure how I got home safely because tears blurred my vision.
I called my husband and then began to pray. I told my Heavenly Father that if His will was to take my son, He would need to give me the strength to bear it.
After my prayer I asked myself what we could do in addition to the prayers we had uttered and the priesthood blessings our son had received. I glanced at the bookshelf and saw a copy of the Liahona (L’Étoile at the time). I opened it at random, searching for help, and found an article titled “I Fasted for My Baby.” Then I clearly heard a voice say, “You have not fasted for your child.”
I had not, so I immediately began to fast for him. At the therapy session the next day, I was still fasting. After examining my son, the therapist looked surprised.
“Madame,” he told me, “your son is fine. I don’t understand, but he doesn’t need any more sessions.”
I couldn’t hold back the tears of joy. Returning home, I knelt to thank God for His mercy and love. I called my husband to tell him the good news. Then I ended my fast in peace, not doubting the intervention of the Lord.
My son was healed thanks to faith, prayer, priesthood blessings, and fasting. I have no doubt that my Heavenly Father loves me and that He also loves my son. I am confident that He will continue to help us overcome our difficulties.