You too? What a coincidence!
All I know is that it was five weeks before their wedding and that’s all I care to know.
Per the calendar, I’m the result of New Years.
Per the calendar and the fact that my father is a lifelong classical-music fan, I like to think I was conceived on December 16 – Beethoven’s birthday.
I’m a total accident - my mother is my father’s second wife and he was told he couldn’t have kids, which is why I have an asshole fuckup older half adopted brother. He was away for the first year of their marriage a ton because his company was trying to get contracts in Saudi Arabia, just back for a few days at a time and gone for months, so my mom knows to the day when I was conceived.
Yes, I’m sure, I look just like him.
My mother told me, in order to get pregnant the first time, she and my father did the deed every day for a month and my brother was conceived that way. Then she heard that that can lead to lower sperm counts because you don’t give them time to recover, so when they decided they wanted to have another, they only did it every three days, and ended up with triplets (my sisters and I)*. Just goes to show, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
Both times, the pregnancies occurred in the first month of trying.
*I realize that this story doesn’t really have anything to do with how multiple pregnancies happen, I just find it funny.
I was conceived in the back of my dad’s Rambler very early in the morning on New Year’s Day, 1969. Mom and Dad were still dating and were on the way home from a party. Mom had 5 kids from her first marriage, most of whom were still living at home, and Dad had one from his first marriage who was home on college break.
They decided they didn’t want to deal with the possibility of getting interrupted, so they turned down a tractor path in a corn field.
For the rest of his life Pop referred to me as, “My little blowout,” since a) his condom broke and b) a flat tire was their excuse as to why they got home so late.
All I know is this:
My parents got married.
15 months later my eldest sister came along.
18 months later my other sister came along.
18 months later I came along.
Then, apparently, my mother decided to find out about this new fangled thing called “family planning”.
All I know is that everyone thinks my parents were weird for waiting 7 years before even trying to have a kid. I though about the birthday thing, but that would only work if I was two weeks late, and I was two weeks early.
I know they were vacationing in Canada at the time, and I was conceived in the camper.
Does this mean I get to have dual citizenship?
I remember going to the drive-in movie in my dad and going home in my mother.
My mom brought up how I was born about 8 months and 3 weeks after my Dad’s birthday recently. That was also when she finally admitted that I was also an accident. As if I hadn’t worked that one out for myself already: I was born 108 months premature, after all.
Per the calendar…well, late September/early October can get pretty dismal in Minnesota.
Need mental floss now.
Geez, glad they didn’t do it once a month! Probably would have set some sort of record. 
Let’s put it this way: I was born one year, nine months and one day after my older sister.
I counted backwards one time, and the date wasn’t anything unusual. Then I remembered that I was two weeks overdue. THAT puts the date right smack on my dad’s birthday.
Ewww.
I was planned (by both parents). They stopped using protection and were pregnant the next month. No cute story.
Apparently, they were visiting one of my dad’s siblings at the time. Knowing this skeeves me out every time my husband asks for sneaky nookie when we’re guests in someone else’s house.
I was an accident. My parents had been together for 7 years, more or less (not married). Then, sometime during July… They got married late August, and I was born 8 months later.
I don’t care. They’re still together, very much in love, and are a very cute couple. They still do PDAs. 
I’m pretty sure I was an accident. Around the time I was born, my parents and my sister, who was about 8 years old at the time, had just immigrated to a new country. They didn’t have any money and were just barely scraping by themselves. There was no possible way that they would have planned for another kid at that time.