My crossroads of faith and fear began with a dream – a dream so vivid and real that I could almost feel the flickering warmth and fading light of the infant in my arms and the shredding pains of a broken heart. The dream left a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t escape. Although, I was only a few weeks along in my pregnancy, I knew my unborn child was a boy and that something was dreadfully wrong.

I survived the next few months of worry with lots of prayer. However, the reality of my dream was confirmed during a routine ultrasound as I watched the technician’s face – her smile was gone, the conversation had ceased. She excused herself and left the room. I turned to my husband, “Something is wrong with our baby. I’ve known it all along.” My husband had known it too. The Lord conditioned my emotions for the painful realization of this news and I was surprisingly calm as we learned about our son’s diagnosis of a potentially life threatening defect in his lung.

I held my emotions in check for a few days (without shedding a single tear), but then doubt and worry crept in. I felt as though the Lord had given my family more than we could bear: my husband was without work, there were bills to pay and deductibles to meet, a larger vehicle to purchase, three young children to care for, not to mention the stress and uncertainty with our son. I felt overwhelmed and defeated. Finally, I gave in. The dam broke and the tears spilled down my cheeks. I sought refuge in my husband’s arms and found solace in his words, “We can only worry about the things that are in our control – turn the rest over to the Lord.”

It was then that I found myself at the crossroads of faith and fear. I had to choose which of these polar forces would govern my future course. I petitioned the Lord in prayer for direction and comfort, searched the scriptures for answers, had a long therapy session with my journal, and received a priesthood blessing. My mind became enlightened, and I began to recall the countless blessings in my life and how the Lord has provided a way for me in every trial. With renewed strength and fortitude, I chose faith – faith in the Lord’s plan for me, my family, and our son – regardless of what the outcome would be.

Faith and hope sustained me through the darkest part of the storm when our son showed the early signs of heart failure while in-utero. Family, friends and ward members united in prayer and fasting. The Lord, in His infinite goodness and mercy, revealed His matchless love with a miracle. Our son’s condition dramatically improved within a week. His heart returned to its normal position and the cysts began shrinking in his lung. I cried, but this time with tears of joy and gratitude. I felt as though the Lord had opened the windows of Heaven and was showering my family with blessings as our burdens were made light.

More trials came our way with our son’s birth and complications with his heart and lungs. Yet, I was continually sustained with faith and a feeling of peace that everything would be okay. We found it fitting to give our son Cole the middle name of Ishmael – which in Hebrew means “God hears.” Cole is a living testament that God hears and answers prayers and that miracles still occur in our day. And the miracles have not ceased with Cole. He underwent surgery at seven months to remove half of his left lung and has experienced a rapid recovery to everyone’s amazement.