My mum told me that she and dad planned to have kids but not that soon (I am the oldest). She conceived me when her birth control efforts weren’t carried out quite consistantly. She told me this story when I was adolescent and I think she meant it as a scary/warning story not to be careless. It worked 
I don’t know for sure, and it would really embarrass my mom if I were to ask, but my birthday is in early September, so I’ve long figured I was part of the New Year’s Eve celebrations.
Until this thread I hadn’t thought about it since my parents split when I was young and I never really thought of them as a couple… but, I know that my son was conceived on New Year’s Eve. I was a premie, but my due date was 2 days after his birthday so I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess “Happy New Year, Mom & Dad!”
I’ve posted this before, but I know a couple from college who named their son Eiffel…because he was conceived in Paris, and they love Paris. I have no problem with them loving Paris, or conceiving in Paris, but the fact that they tell EVERYONE when they introduce their son where he was conceived kinda bugs me. It’s one thing for 40 year old me to count backwards and think “Oh yeah, New Years”, and something else entirely for this poor kid not only to be hit in the face on a regular basis with the notion of his parents doing it but be aware that everyone else is getting hit with the same tmi that’s even less of their beeswax. Bleagh.
I was planned, and that’s all I care to know about the details- my mother wanted her first child before she turned 32 and I was born 11 days before her 32nd birthday.
I also know that they deliberately decided not to wait too long before their next baby- mum weaned me from breastmilk to cow’s milk at 4months and there are 14 months between my sister and I.
I also know that after the death of their third baby they waited all of 6 weeks before deciding to try again, where this decision was made, and the fact that it took 2 years to then conceive my baby sister. Mum found out she was pregnant 6 weeks after the purchase of our new puppy…which had been bought on the presumption that the famly was complete and another baby would not be forthcoming.
All of this has been imparted gradually over the years in non icky ways. “Make sure you set yourself a deadline for having kids”, “be grateful for ovulaton pain- it’ll make planning your family much easier”, “It’s much easier to get have 2 in nappies at once than to spread that phase out over 5 years”, “I love that hotel- it’s where we decided we were going to have your sister”, “never buy a large dog if there is any possibility there is going to be an infant in the house any time soon”.
I’ve been told not a damn thing, which is good. I think I was planned, based on the fact that my parents had been married for six years already when I was conceived. However, my sister (a year and a half younger) was a failure of “the pill”, so I feel like that may cast a doubt on the intention of my conception.
When I adopted one of my cats they told me his date of birth. I counted back the amount of a cat’s gestation period to get his date of conception. I was in Paris at the time, so I named him Paris.
I was planned. I think I was concieved 3 months after they got married.
No idea re my own conception, but I do know about my two sons…(duh!)
The first one was conceived the night that I threw my pants over the headboard…a coworker had joked that that’s how one can be sure of the birth of a son. It worked! We still joke about that one.
The second one was conceived while my wife, her parents and myself were moving us to Northern California. It was a long trip, so we all stayed overnight in a motel…two adjoining rooms. My wife was giggling about her parents hearing our playfulness, and nine months later, another son.
I am not quite understanding the math here.
I have no idea what the circumstances behind my conception other than I was a complete surprise.
My Mother was supposed to be sterile, due to some medical issues when she was young.
But she got pregnant at least three times that I know of, one a miscarriage, my older sister and me.
9 months before I was born was early June, and there is nothing significant about those dates for Mom or Dad.
Well, i did grow up to be a vexillologist (one who studies flags), that might have something to do with it.
But you forget that I’m a Canadian (and so are my parents), Flag Day here is February 15 (and wasn’t officially decreed as such until I was in my 30s I think.)
My birth mother was 12, my birth father 15. My birth mother was 13 when she had me.
I’m now 36, which makes her 49, which gets freakier the older I get, as we start to seem closer in age.
Ditto.
I have no idea, and nor do I wish to, but it appears I was conceived during the long hot summer of 1976 (the hottest on record in the UK).
Based on when I was due, I’d say I was conceived around June 24, 1984. As far a I know, nothing really special happened that day.
Fact 1: I was born in early 1968, in San Francisco.
Fact 2: My mom attended the three-day Monterey International Pop Music Festival, which was in June 1967.
Fact 3: This was during the ‘Summer of Love’, and based on pics of my mom and her friends from the time, my mom was most definitely not on the sidelines looking in.
My mom refuses to answer any questions about the whole event, except to say that ‘she had a really good time’. 
My wife and I just had a baby boy. It looks very likely that he was conceived while we were vacationing in Istanbul…
My parents were quite a bit apart in age - 18 years - and were engaged for about four years before they got married. Actually, Dad rented a room from my grandmother while they were dating and engaged but they were working on an old house they’d bought and planned to move into after the wedding. Well, as it turned out, neither of 'em wanted much of a wedding so one night, at around 7:00pm, they went and hunted up a minister and just did it. Then they nipped over the border to Bellingham for steaks and a motel. They spent the next week holed up in the “The Shack”. That was in November of '58.
Well, Mom figured that under the circumstances, the neighbours would make assumptions, so she told Dad “No baby for six months!”
Six months later, April of '59, they got busy - apparently every night. Ahem.
It worked, of course. Feb 1 '60, out I popped!
Mom’s birthday fell on Thanksgiving that year. She and dad ate turkey, watched “Arsenic and Old Lace,” laughed their asses off and … yeah.
I showed up a month late, though - but she’s positive she got knocked up on her birthday.