He Knows . . .

This has proven to be a humbling week in many ways.

The biggest thing has been that I have had to completely depend on our ward for help. Anyone who knows me knows how much I struggle with asking for help. I definitely prefer to be self-sufficient and independent. However, because of my mother's health and the recent events of my grandfather's diagnosis of cancer, my mom was unable to make the trip down after Ethan's birth. My mother-in-law did come for the actual birth and took care of the kids while we were at the hospital, but since her departure on Sunday, I am still recovering from my c-section.

Our amazing ward has scheduled out sisters to come help me in shifts from the hours of 8 a.m. until 6 p.m. each day. Not only do people come stay with me and assist me, but someone comes to help put Matthew on the bus and get him off the bus, and someone takes David from 12 until 6 p.m.

When the compassionate service lady first told me that she was going to set up the various shifts, I thought I knew what I needed. I figured people were coming to help me clean house, where I can't do things like unload the dishwasher or bend down to put clothes in the washer.

Through the week I have observed those sisters who have come into my house and started cleaning without asking questions. There are those who play with the boys and do less cleaning. Each sister brings something different. At first, I felt a little frustrated with some because I thought certain ones should do more cleaning, where others could have played more with the boys. Hormonal, right?

Well, I had a paradigm shift yesterday.

Ethan's billirubin score came back really high. As a result, I received a call on Tuesday night that I needed to get him into the doctor first thing Wednesday morning so that his blood draw could be sent on the first lab run of the day.

Wednesday morning I got up early and started getting ready, not sure who was taking the 8 a.m. shift. I got a call shortly thereafter that the sister would be there at 8:15 (when the office opened). I also discovered she needed to leave at 9:30 to go to work. I told her that I wasn't sure if I would be done, because David needed to be seen too. She immediately said, "I'll come help you get the kids in the car and then, I'll follow you to the doctor." Luckily, I hadn't taken my pain meds for 40 hours, so I could drive.

She followed me there and carried the baby car seat in, and held the chain of Matthew, David, and her four year old twin boys.

At my appt, the nurse let me know that they would call me in the afternoon with the results to give further instructions. I asked her if the lab would be dropping off our billi lights or if I needed to come back to the office. That's when she informed me, "Oh no. Your baby will be hospitalized tonight. We don't send you home with lights." Me: "That's really necessary? In Utah we rented the lights for two weeks and ran them at home." Nurse: "Not here in Katy."

The news came as a low blow. I had no idea hospitalization was even a possibility--especially for something so simple as billiruben.

We finished at 9:25, just in time for the sister to help us to the car and be on her way.

We raced home, as I was in immense pain and our next help was supposed to be there at 9:30. Upon our arrival there was a call that the next help wouldn't be there until 10. What a relief. I hadn't missed her.

She showed up with her daughter and went to work--no questions asked. The boys played.

The next help had a connection with a nurse that recently worked in the NICU. She had lots of information about the hospitalization and the reasoning behind such a drastic measure.

Again, my mind began turning. Ryan's already taken all of his days. He could take off time, but it would be without pay. Plus, what were we going to do with the boys? They have already experienced so many different faces. What would my stay with Ethan at the hospital do to them?

The doctor's office called at the next sister's stay. She was vacuuming when I got the call. The nurse said, "Mrs. Allred, you're not going to believe this. Your son's score went down by 3, almost 4 points. He doesn't have to be hospitalized, and because the doctor thinks the level has already peaked, you don't have to even come in for checks anymore." I cannot even explain what happened next. I couldn't respond. I was too choked up. What a huge relief, like a weight lifted off. I texted Ryan in class and called my mom. The sister who was vacuuming turned off the vacuum and sat and just listened.

The next help arrived and took Matthew out to play, exactly what he needed.

By the end of the day, it dawned on me. Each of the sister's who came, again, brought something different to the table. Each sister provided exactly what I needed. With the ones who didn't clean as much, they were so focused on my kids--to the point that my kids immediately hugged them when they came over and cried when they left. In addition, the vacuuming sister listened. It was exactly what I needed. The cleaning sisters relieved the OCD part of my brain that was going crazy over the piles of laundry and unvacuumed floor.

While I would have done things one way, Heavenly Father knew exactly what I needed when I needed it. I received such a testimony as to why we are all different. While some of us have talents in one area, others have talents in other ways to compliment us. Together, each of us makes it possible to lift burdens and needs. And without all of the different talents, not all of those needs could be met.