Oh, the irony…
This is rich.
A couple of weeks ago, Lorelle’s blog challenge was to find keywords that return your blog as the first result from a Google search. I didn’t do it. In fact, lately, I’ve become much less consumed by the popularity of my sites and the activity on my site logs, so I’m not even checking referrers every day — crazy, I know. But today, I found a hit to my not too popular Bolliti Panfriti entry, and I noticed that the hit came from a Google search. Curious to see the ranking of that entry for that particular query, I ran a search on Google, and my post showed up as number TWO. Wanna guess what words make Mafe Maria show up as number 2 in Google?… Try a search for: I really want to have a baby.
Oh dear. If just a few months ago somebody had told me that this would happen, I would’ve laughed so hard, the poor person would’ve thought the joke wasn’t that funny. But here I am. Me. The woman who has dragged her feet over pregnancy and maternity much longer and harder than my husband dragged his feet over marriage. I am number 2 wishing for a baby. Absolutely rich… Which leads me to the next thoughts I hesitated to share on this site for fear of boring my dear audience with the topic…
In the next few days I’m going to be out of town. At the time I accepted the trip I was completely sure that I was pregnant. I know, we’ve been through this before. And I swear I was so good last month ignoring fake symptoms of early pregnancy. I fought it like a warrior the whole cycle until day 29. According to the BBT chart I wasn’t really late yet. But my boobs. They hurt like they’ve never hurt before. I couldn’t ignore them. They hurt, even when I wasn’t thinking of them. This being the only symptom of early pregnancy I have never experienced, I could only conclude that oh shit, I must be pregnant, and if I am, it is for sure a girl because boys couldn’t have lasted that long.
But I wasn’t pregnant (treacherous boobs!), and this month I won’t get pregnant either because my egg will be many miles away from Joey’s boys on the precious prime days. I realized this and briefly regretted having decided to go on the trip. But then I thought it was for the better. Who wants a baby delivered in mid December, just a few days away from Christmas? Not me. I was planning for the fall, and if I had been pregnant last cycle, I had a perfect vision of what the announcement would’ve looked like — One big scorpion, a smaller scorpion, and a tiny little scorpion. Alas, no.
I told Joey all this, concluding that it was probably a good thing that we would miss this month most likely, and in fact, maybe we shouldn’t even try at all this month. Joey’s grunt made me rephrase my words, clarifying that sex was not out of the question, but baby-prone sex, forced on specific hectic days… days when I’ll be packing and unpacking, therefore not really in the mood. Not really in any good mood at all, because I hate packing. To which Joey replied “Oh, we will try!… After all, we’re Joseph and Mary. Who knows: Maybe a Christmas miracle could happen.”
One thing is sure. We would not name our baby “Jesus”. Ok?