Two more:
Posted on Tue, Jul. 05, 2005
Army of volunteers keeps us sane
Price for help with our six little ones was privacy, but the sleep and extra love have been invaluable
Jennifer Hanselman
As soon as my husband, Keith, and I found out that we were expecting sextuplets, we knew we'd need help, and lots of it. Believe it or not, we used to be fairly private, normal people before our batch of kids shoved us all into the public spotlight. We knew our quiet life was about to become a lot less so when the first newspaper story broke two months before the babies' births.
Although we knew we needed helpers, we didn't have any idea how to go about finding them. It seemed to be too large a favor to ask anyone to help care for our children in their spare time (for free, no less). We had no idea if anyone would even be interested in volunteering, but as soon as word of our coming additions started to spread, the phone at our church began ringing with offers of help and our volunteer army was born.
It has now been a little over a year since the first volunteer caregiver walked through our front door and into our family's life. In the beginning, none of us was sure how to act. The volunteers clearly didn't want to intrude on our privacy, but they sincerely wanted to help in any way they could.
At first, Keith and I struggled with the idea of letting complete strangers handle our fragile little preemies, but as the days went by and the lack of sleep started catching up with us, we'd hand our kids over to any smiling face that came in the door, just for the chance to catch a nap.
The first recruits for our army came mostly from our church, Twin Falls United Methodist Church. Our church friends recommended their friends, and after a few weeks, those friends brought more friends and so on until we had a fully staffed, finely tuned machine grinding through the daily routine of caring for six newborns. We rounded out our volunteer roster with a few total strangers who were so persistent in calling the church and getting verified as nonpsycho by the police department that we finally gave in and let them come on a trial basis.
As it turns out, some of these strangers were a little strange, but all of them quickly fit right in. Keith and I soon learned to live with very little privacy, but the trade-off was a little more sleep and sanity for us and much better care for our kids than we could have provided alone. We thought the volunteers were doing us an incredible favor by giving up their time to care for our babies, but it turns out that many of them felt we were the ones being generous by sharing our kids.
In the early days, the babies' immature digestive systems often produced lapfuls of spit-up after every feeding. It was sort of like playing a weird version of Russian roulette to see who was going to get the puker at each feeding. Some volunteers got hosed so often that they started bringing towels for their laps or changes of clothing so they wouldn't have to drive home soaked to their underwear in baby barf.
Most volunteers stayed
We were always amazed when a new volunteer wanted to come back, even after getting initiated by one of the babies. The kids proved addictive, though, and we lost very few volunteers because most of them couldn't stand the thought of not seeing what happened next in the circus sideshow our house had become.
While the weeks and months rolled slowly by, we got to know our volunteers and the stories of their lives. Many were older women with inspiring tales of living through hardship and loss. Some never had children and others had no grandchildren to spoil, so they considered all seven of our kids their own. A few were men dragged along by their wives, which gave Keith a bit of relief from the constant sea of estrogen that surrounded him at home.
Some brought their children or grandchildren to help, while a few desperate ones came to see our kids to escape from their own families for a few minutes. The ones I never quite understood were the volunteers who swore that coming to our nuthouse was relaxing for them.
As their stories became interwoven with our own, our volunteers have transformed into members of our family. They have put up with being routinely nibbled on by our cat Gizmo and kindly don't point out the extra gray hairs on my head or the bags that constantly hang beneath my eyes.
We laugh, argue, joke, share advice, swap stories and get on each others' nerves just like any other family. Even though our 16-month-old babies are able to feed themselves alone, they still enjoy seeing their favorite volunteers and spend more time playing with their big friends than drinking their milk.
Musical tribute
And so, without further ado, I offer a brief musical tribute to the dozens of faithful volunteers who have enriched my family's life and shared so much while asking for so little:
(To the tune of Old MacDonald -- sing along, everyone!)
Jen and Keith, they had a zoo,
``Wah, wah, wah, boo hoo!''
And in this zoo they had some kids,
``Wah, wah, wah, boo hoo!''
Babies here and a toddler there,
Here a book, there a toy,
Everywhere are girls and boys!
Jen and Keith, they had a zoo, `Wah, wah, wah, boo hoo!''
And to this zoo there came some folks.
No more ``Wah! Boo hoo!''
These volunteers, they came with jokes,
Asked, ``What can we do?''
So they wiped some butts
(Several were quite nuts)
They see the worst, hear us curse
Aren't offended by bad verse!
Now it's not quite such a zoo,
And we thank God for you!
This is a good one too:
Oh baby, what a year! 
