Raging Hormones? Maybe

I don't recall having much problem with the stereotypical raging hormones of a pregnant woman last time around. Except for when I went into labor --well, I was induced-- and something about that really knocked me off kilter. Maybe it was the fact that I was basically chained to the bed (I really wanted to be walking around) by the heart monitor on one side of me and the IV pole on the other. Maybe it was the whole drama of getting induced in the first place (I was still a week and a half shy of my due date but there was a bit of an emergency). Maybe it was all those things together. But at one point I looked up at the faces of the entire OB staff who had crowded into my room (naughty me for walking around and having the heart monitor slip off again) and started crying so hard that DH had to speak on my behalf. Then there was the incident in the hospital after the birth when I spent an entire morning crying, but that's a whole other story.

Today, however, I surprised myself by bawling my eyes out over a seemingly trivial incident. Nobody at DS's nursery had told me that they were having a harvest festival, that he was supposed to bring a basket of fruits and a pudding snack, that he was supposed to wear a white shirt. He was the only kid in blue. I don't know why but I care so much about these events. The staff could see that I was upset and they promised to dig up a shirt for him, to share fruits from other kids, and to provide him with pudding. I believed them. But still I had to run out of there before they could see my eyes filling with tears. Maybe it was my gratitude. Maybe it was the frustration I'd pent up over a traffic incident that happened on my way to drop him off. DH thinks that it was because I felt deprived of things as a child (I disagree). But in any case, by the time I got DH on the phone, I was a blubbering, snozzling, nose-blowing mess. I sat there on my cell phone (than God he was available) with the motor running for a full ten minutes-- I'm normally very careful not to talk for long on the phone so this is a big deal-- and still I didn't feel better. All the way to work I had tears running down my face. I finally allowed myself to acknowledge that perhaps I really just do feel strongly about holidays at nursery and not having him feel left out-- though as DH pointed out, he probably didn't even notice. He's really young. I even found pretense to call the nursery and see how things were going a while later. Well, I have to say, I can't attribute the whole incident to logic, therefore it must be at least partly hormonal-driven. I have succumbed. But at least I can recognize it.