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Here’s me at 19 weeks:

Not much has changed. I’m getting fatter. I’m also having gas cramps. (I know, I know … it’s gross!) But they’re really annoying. They get worse in the afternoon, at bedtime, and at five in the morning, when I wake up anyway. Now, I can’t get comfortable — I toss and turn in bed for an hour before I finally succumb to my sleepiness. Bemis better be cute, that’s all I can say!

On Saturday, I let Ben drag me to the CU vs K-State basketball game. This was the first large sporting event I’ve attended since my second stroke, and I was nervous. Would I feel like I was suffocating in the crowds? Would I have a panic attack? Would I get really tired? No, but …

We entered the arena amist thousands of other people. I was doing okay — feeling pretty awake — and then I heard the band. The pep band. Playing the CU fight song. And I started sobbing.

I don’t know WHY I was crying, because I wasn’t sad or in pain. It was REALLY annoying! Ben wasn’t amused. “Why don’t you go wash your face off?” I went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my red eyes. Then I headed back to the top of section 8, where I heard the band and subsequently burst into ANOTHER round of tears. “We’re not going down to our seats until you stop crying,” he said evenly. Not meanly, but it still felt as if he were disappointed in me.

I finally settled down so we could make our way to our seats. Ben had scalped *excellent* tickets, and we took our seats in the first row at center court. The band started playing again, and I started crying again. Eventually, I grew accustomed to it and stopped.

Strategizing. We’re down 77-82, 37 seconds left.

CU lost the game, but it was close, 87 – 81. The players are really tall. They sold kettle corn above our section. That’s about all I remember.

I really hope that my crying is a pregnancy thing. I understand that pregnant people often burst out into unexplainable tears in broad daylight. Unfortunately, I have a nagging dread that it may be the strokes that caused my inappropriate affect. Several months ago, Ben sprained his ankle running to get a phone call from the vet, who was calling to tell us that the x-rays releaved that Zamba had a leg problem. That sounds like the right time to cry, right? Except I didn’t. I laughed hysterically for twenty minutes before I finally shed my first tear. I discussed the incident with my psychologist, who did some research and told me that was bound to happen given where my strokes occurred.

“Oh, great,” I groaned. “That’s fantastic. Is there anything I can do about it?”

“There might be a couple of meds you can try, but not while you’re pregnant.” This was not all that encouraging. She continued, “It’s interesting that you laugh when crying is what you’d like to do. What often happens when the basil ganglia are affected is that you lose the ability to respond appropriately to emotional situations, so you may cry when you should be laughing.”

Dear God, I hope it’s pregnancy, because I don’t know if I can take the tears for the next decade.