The phone was ringing. I jumped to my feet to grab it. Greg and Savannah were both napping and I didn't want a ringing phone to change that! As I picked up the handset, I glanced at the caller ID. I'm certain my heart skipped a beat because I was 99% sure it was the Kaiser genetics department calling. I knew the next call that I would receive from them would be with the results of the genetic testing that had been done on Savannah.
In just seconds, thoughts of all kinds flooded my mind. Would she have DiGeorge syndrome? I shared the possibility with a few individuals and when they asked what my "mommy gut" told me, I said I honestly felt there was a 50-50 chance. Our family seemed to beat all odds...and not always in the preferred fashion...so this just seemed to fit our bill of kids.
I also felt at peace. Each of my children belong to God and, while I had no desire to deal with yet another diagnosis, I did not fear it, nor was I angry. As that thought came and went, I answered the phone. It was the the genetics department. The geneticist began to speak and then quickly said something along these lines: "Sorry, before I go any further, Savannah does not have DiGeorge syndrome." She continued to speak and I heard bits and pieces, but in my head all I could hear was those words, over and over again: Savannah did not have DiGeorge syndrome.
I do recall the geneticist commenting about the test that was run on Savannah. It was not a test that she requested on a regular basis. In the few years that passed since she last requested that test, it had become more thorough. In fact, Savannah's genetic strand appeared to be "perfect". Yes, she had most certainly been born with the Congenital Heart Defect, Tetralogy of Fallot, but it was simply a defect that began during fetal development. The cause would likely never be known, as least not while I walked the Earth. I knew Savannah was "perfect"...all of my children are - because they're heavenly father created them in His image.
It wasn't a long phone call. I got the results and confirmed that we wanted to have the level two ultrasound of the babe growing in my belly, along with clarification that I had a 1% chance of having another child with Down syndrome and a 3% chance of a child with a heart defect. Jeremy's condition wasn't even in the cards...it was simply too rare to really put a percentage on.
I hung up the phone. I felt strange. In all previous discussions with those in the medical field, we had been given some sort of diagnosis. I would get news, hop on the computer and begin doing research, arming myself for what the future held, so that I might be able to help my children grow and develop, despite their quirky health issues. But not this time. I put the phone on the counter and headed back to the couch where I had been attempting a cat nap. Greg and Savannah were still asleep and Dylan wouldn't be home from school for at least another hour. I laid down, completely at peace. I couldn't even bring myself to call Rob yet. I was numb and I had to soak it in. Savannah was OK. Well, she'd be followed by a cardiologist for the duration of her life, but another surgery is not likely and all annual check-ups were indicating that she would lead a "heart healthy life". She could play sports, mother children - anything her heart desired.
As I laid on the couch, I thought of Savannah's heavenly father. I thought of the day I had found out she had the CHD, TOF. I thought of the day we had her dedicated back to her maker. Yes, God had complete control of her life and if I continued to leave her in His hands and relinquish control, she will lead the life He has paved for her.