I’m with you.
Why bastard? wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam’s issue? Why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
Got 'tween asleep and wake? 
I remember riding around with my father, & he pointed toward a parking lot, as I recall, & said, “You were born there.” Since I was born in Tulsa, not in a parking lot in Joplin, I was able to figure out what he meant.
I actually know a little bit about the specifics (despite neither of my parents being enthusiastic about describing the incident), since apparently they only had sex that one time. Or twice in the same night, maybe.
My mother managed to paint herself as too brainwashed into “girls are nice & violence is bad” to actually strike a man forcing himself on her, while my father, being from the wrong side of the tracks, apparently figured that if she wasn’t hitting him, it was okay, whatever she said.
My father just said something about crossed or mixed signals & confusion. Crap, I’ve forgotten how he put it, & he’s dead now.
In any case, if I have daughters, I’m teaching them to be fighters; if I have sons, I’m teaching them to be extra careful about women.
Heh. Luckier than I, for that. I spent much of my childhood thinking I ruined my mother’s life, & had some real issues with my father, & men in general. Oh, wait, maybe I have a Bill Finger origin story.
Yep, I’m so glad my mother hated my father too much to marry him.
Y’know, compared to the people in this thread, I really know very little about the specifics of my conception. I inferred “car.”
.
Ummmm… relevance? Any?
Anyways, I was born almost ten years after my parents married, and they had tried and tried for a long time with no luck. They had set up an adoption, which fell through at the last minute, and the next month my mother found out she was pregnant with me. I never realised how much my mother loved me until she told me that story.
A couple years ago, I was visiting my mother when a family friend, who happened to be a nurse at my family doctor’s office, came over to visit. They were talking about kids and about my mum telling her friend about being pregnant with me, and then a year later with my younger sis. I asked about my youngest sister, who’s 7 years younger than me. Nurse-friend blurts out “Yah, I told *her *about that one”. I had never realised until then that my youngest sis was unplanned. It was a weird moment.
I think you mean “virgin birth”; the immaculate conception was a result of sex.
Same here, only I’m not sure how happy they were and they had two kids before stopping because mom was overwhelmed.
How long do we have?
My parents were from different parts of the country, the maternals moved often. At one point they moved to Pamplona, Dad’s hometown. Mom was in training to be a teacher, Dad to be an accountant, the two schools were actually the same building: teachers had class in the morning, accountants in the afternoon.
Later the maternals went back to Barcelona. Dad moved over there, lived there for a year before getting married (to Mom). They stayed there for two years, putting up with increasing “when’s the baby coming?” They moved back to Pamplona. The pressure got even worse, since she didn’t have any relatives there and many of her old friends weren’t in town; my youngest uncle had gotten married and had a boy. “When’s the baby coming?” Doctors say baby’s not coming, she’s sterile.
March 1967, Dad’s MD uncle, a GP who’s still a legend among Spanish doctors (and he’s been dead for over 10 years) tells Mom that she needs to get some serious rest. She is to go back to her mother’s and spend 3 months in bed. She is allowed to go for walks and so forth, but NO, absolutely NO housework. Dad stays in Pamplona.
May 20? was a Sunday - Mom’s sister’s wedding. Mom and Dad haven’t seen each other for seven weeks. Dad drove over (back then the trip took 12 hours). Saturday afternoon Mom and Dad “made use of their marriage privileges” on the maternals’ bed (the only one in that house large enough). They didn’t see each other for the next month, then they went on vacation and everybody at their hotel was sniggering at the young wife who couldn’t stand the sight of fried eggs.
How they managed to convince themselves and the doctors (other than Uncle) that yes, it was an actual baby is at least a trilogy. Suffice it to say that I was called a tumor and almost got scrapped off: Uncle saved me and according to Dad’s Mom (who was very much a lady) “when he called the OG on the phone he used some words whose meaning a lady should not know”. Oh, and I first kicked noticeably while in the circus. I tried to get born on Feb 19 but the OG insisted that “women can’t count” and filled us with pills, stopping the contractions. Actual birthdate, March 13th.
Middlebro, 6 years younger, was confirmation that the doctors had been full of shit. Littlebro, 2 years after middlebro, was unplanned but not unwanted (the same “counting” that hadn’t worked for me, didn’t work for him, only in his case it was being used in the opposite direction).
I was pretty normal, I was an accident but not an unwelcome one.
My brother on the other hand was completely unexpected and unplanned for. I’ve been told that when my father found out my mom was pregnant with him, he lay on the couch for several hours moaning “My f******* life is over,” over and over again.
Mmy English teacher is adopted and when we wrote papers about ourselves, she told us the story of her conception. Seems her mother, a white Acadian woman, broke up with her boyfriend and had a one night stand with a drummer. She got back with her old boyfriend soon after and when she found out she was pregnant, she assumed the baby was her boyfriend’s. Until 9 months down the road when out came a baby girl, utterly normal except quite a bit darker than she should have been. The drummer was half black and half hispanic. It probably wasn’t very funny at the time…
I was very planned - Mom was taking her temperature daily to track her fertility. My folks were at my grandparents’ house for Christmas, and on Christmas Eve day, Mom was ovulating, so into the bedroom they went. (Well, I’m sure they were propery circumspect about it.) Merry Christmas, Grandma!
I know more than I need to know about what my parent’s sex life was like. I don’t know much about my conception though. Since my birthday is at the end of July, I might be a Thanksgiving baby. They were married for two years before having me and had one miscarriage (that I found out about from an aunt when I was about 20 or so) before having me, so it’s safe to assume that they were trying for a kid.
I was planned, as was my older sister. In fact, my birth date was also planned because my dad had a crazy internship-work schedule. 
I was definitely planned, and really hoped for. Lots of joy and good times all around.
It happened the month my parents bought their new home. Was that how they celebrated?
Not only was I planned, I was a condition of marriage.
My mother refused, point blank, to marry my father until he got her pregnant.
On the one hand, nice to know I was wanted. On the other hand, way more than I had any urge to know about their sex lives.
My brother was also planned - well, planned by my mother. Her doctors were exceptionally aggravated when she got pregnant with him. She lost her first baby, I was a difficult pregnancy, and I was *three months old * when she got pregnant with my brother. Apparently, her doctors had cleared her for intercourse with strong instructions to use the birth control for at least two years if not permanently (really, they wanted permanently). She pitched the birth control on the way out the door, and proceeded to get pregnant that very evening.
After she had my brother, they told her another pregnancy would probably kill her. She’s still bitter about it to this day. My brother turned 30 this year. :eek: She wanted ten kids.
My parents told me that I was unplanned, but welcome. Had I been a girl, my Dad wanted to name me “Serendipity”, which he defined as a “fortuitous accident”. I was spared that fate by being male. (And was given a name that launched a thousand quips - but that’s another story.)
I was a mid-November baby, born 2.5 years after my parents married, so you figure out the timing (Happy Valentines Day?)
My sibs, both youger than me, were both planned.
While very young and very annoying, my sister got wind of the fact that she was planned and I was not.
“Typo was an accident! Typo was an accident!” she kept repeating.
Mom responded: "Typo was an accident, but
you
were a
MISTAKE!
"
Thanks, Mom! 
I was also a bastard child. (every so often I attempt to live up to that.)
My mother had been married and divorced and was working at the carnival miday that used to be owned by my great-great grandfather. She met a young man that also worked there and they dated for a while. He had asked her to marry him but she turned him down and he moved back to somewhere in kentucky. it was after this that she found out for sure that she was pregnant, so he doesn’t know about me.
She has also told me that she strongly considering having an abortion. (single woman, mid 70’s, baby to raise) But after the first time she felt me moving, she knew she couldn’t ever do that.
Not planned. My dad got a vasectomy after I was born, and I’m not quite sure what to think of that.
It’s because you were so perfect that he knew no other child could compare to your greatness.
At least, thats how I explain my dad’s vasectomy within weeks of my birth. 
Unplanned in that they were surprised to get pregnant at all, I guess. My sister and I were both surprises to my parents, who had been infertile for three years following the death of their first daughter.
So, like pleasant surprise babies, I guess?