I've always hated how women often get dismissed for being "hormonal" or "emotional". As if she has no other reason or right to be upset about something, but rather, it must be 'that time of the month'. I've always held to the mantra of 'never let them see you sweat' and always try to maintain my demeanor, but I do find that shifts in endogenous hormone production or additions of exogenous hormones can sometimes exaggerate one's reaction to certain situations...
I really don't mind when Myrtle gives me updates on little Myrtle. In fact, I enjoy hearing how she is progressing, although I confess I'm ticking off her Denver Developmental milestones. I do however find it annoying when Myrtle refers to her by her nickname. "Little Myrtlepants and I went to the park today." "Little Myrtlepants and I may try to visit you next year."
I should explain that Myrtle creates a nickname by adding the word "pants" to one's name. It started with her cats, "Cooperpants" and "Jackiepants". She tried to do it with my cats, but they were having none of it. I thought it was a pretty dumb nickname for her cats and it seems even more ridiculous for her kid. I should also add here that I don't really like the name Myrtle gave her daughter. My polite response when she revealed it to me was, "I think it would be more fitting as a middle name." Myrtle's husband wasn't keen on the name and jumped on my band wagon promoting it as a middle name. Rather than stand up to Myrtle regarding his preference for an alternative name, I think his strategy was to hope the baby would be a boy. I pointed out to Husband, that Mr Myrtle may have sperm, but that doesn't mean he has any balls.
Often when I react to something pregnancy or child related, I apply a test: would this have bothered me prior to my experience with infertility and pregnancy loss? In this case, I feel the answer is yes. Pet names are meant to be personal, not public. Husband's nickname for me is 'Chicken', but he doesn't refer to me as Chicken to anyone else.
I was recently speaking with my Dad, who was filling me in on their plans for the weekend. "Mrs Myrtle, [Myrtle's mother] Myrtle and little Myrtlepants are coming over." Three thousand miles away, I rolled my eyes at his mention of the name 'little Myrtlepants'. He then started discussing his progress on their new composite deck and added "We need to have it finished as little Myrtlepants is crawling around now."
So many thoughts flooded my mind at his second use of little Myrtlepants. The first, that name is so fucking irritating! I also realised at that moment that I felt left out. Not because I didn't have my own baby with a silly nickname, but because I live so far away. It was as if Myrtle and her family and my parents formed a club and calling the baby 'little Myrtlepants' was part of their secret code. That resonated into a sad realisation that even if we do have a baby, living on the other side of the country means that my parents will see much more of little Myrtle growing up than their own grandchild.
However, as fucking irritating was the initial thought, that's the one that fostered my reaction. "Her name is just little Myrtle." I admonished "She already has one stupid name, she doesn't need a second one." My Dad awkwardly searched for a new topic of conversation. It dawned on me that this was my second outburst in front of my Dad. I hope he is as clueless as I think he is.
Less than twenty-four hours later, I had another mini-meltdown. I finished my last dose of progesterone on a Sunday morning and planned to pick up my prescription when I was out doing errands. I painted 5 cabinet doors and cleaned our kitchen and bathrooms, which took longer than I thought it would. Husband came home from hockey later in the afternoon and offered that he would accompany me to the store after he showered and had a bite to eat. I was agreeable as it would make planning our meals for the week easier if I had his company. About an hour later it occurred to me that the pharmacy closes earlier on Sunday.
I wasn't going to be able to pick up my prescription in time and would miss a dose or two. Medically, I knew this wasn't critical, but I was focused on the bigger pictures. I felt so disappointment in myself. I had set a goal that I would be 100% compliant with the supplemental progesterone during this cycle and I had let myself down. This obviously had larger implications too. If I couldn't manage to put the P4 in my VG twice daily, how was I ever going to be able to give multiple daily injections when we're in the IVF process? Obviously, there was no way I would ever be able to take care of a baby as I screwed up on this task. Clearly, my world was crashing down around me, as I had been declared the most inept person on the planet.
"Don't you have some of that stuff in your office?" Husband asked, quickly growing tired of listening to me whine. We occasionally have some samples of Crinone that we rarely use. I was able to get access to one box which contained two doses, enough to last me until I could pick up my prescription. I felt reminded that yes, during the IVF process and definitely during parenting, I'll make some mistakes and will have to learn to be resourceful. However, I also found it ironic that continuing to dose myself with the product that was driving me to act so crazy was now keeping me sane.