Stupid irrationality

Something stupid happened this week.

Shea was sick and missed a few days of school. No big deal, he bounced right back.

Except it ended up being a big deal, because the consequence of this is he missed the narrow window of enrollment for his karate class. Shut out. For stupid, bureaucratic reasons.

On one hand, whatever. I can intellectualize it. Tell myself he's 4, he's adaptable, this is such a first world problem, it's not really that big of a deal. It's not like he's training for the Olympics, for god's sakes.

But if I have learned nothing else over the course of the past year, it's that emotions are totally irrational.

And my irrational emotions tell me that I have totally failed. Again. I blew it. Not only was I completely helpless to save my daughter, but I have to tell my son something that I know is going to upset him greatly, even for a short period of time, because of something I didn't do.

Worlds apart in terms of magnitude, but in my mourning, pregnancy-hormone-addled heart, they kind of feel the same.

The thought of that, the thought of failing another one of my children, even in this small, stupid, meaningless way, is crushing me. If I was not so busy weeping, I'd have to laugh at myself. Crying over a karate form. Good grief.

Another example of never knowing where grief will sneak up on you.

The idea of explaining this situation to Shea - probably over and over again, because that's the way it works with 4 year olds, makes me feel like the old train in one of his favorite books:

I cannot, I cannot, I cannot...

In truth, he'll probably be totally understanding, because that's the type of kid he is. "That's OK, Mommy," he'll often tell me, when I apologize for a slip up on my part or disappointing situation.

He's a great boy. And that makes me feel worse.

The angry part of me is pissed at the bureaucracy of it. It's a bad system, and we got screwed because of it. We were responsible enough to follow the communicable disease policy of the school, and Shea is paying the price now. Angry, carefully worded emails, expressing our displeasure, have been dispatched.

But the raw part of me tells me I should have done more. I should have dropped off the form the one day he was in school that week. I should have dropped off the form, even in his absence. I should have done something. 

Surely there must be something I can do to fix this?

As with Harper, the answer appears to be "no." Nothing to be done. It is what it is.

And the irrational part of me cries and cries, even as I recognize this whole thing is just all so very stupid. So not me, or who I want to be. But irrational stupidity is enough to keep you up at night. As if I needed another incentive for insomnia.

Meanwhile, on the SLOS board, there is an effort to collect all the names and dates and addresses of babies lost to this disease. A sad list that has been getting longer throughout the day. I've not yet added Harper's name. I'm not sure why.

I wish I could sleep.