Ok, so I'm telling a story on my mom...
Most of us have family stories that get retold every so often. In my family, one of them is about how my mom realized she was pregnant with me. Or rather, she she didn't realize she was pregnant.
She and my dad had been trying for over a year, and she was becoming convinced (or maybe she was convinced) that they might not be able to have a baby. Making the situation even worse was that in an English class she had to read a book about a woman who was infertile.
And then, happy joy! She got pregnant. Except, she didn't figure it out for a while. In fact, she was probably the last person to know. She even got into an argument with my dad about it, because they were going to move from Texas to Louisiana (yes I was born in Louisiana, though I consider myself a native Portlander) and dad was worried about the pregnancy making the move difficult for her.
The argument went something like this:
"I'm not pregnant!"
"Yes you are."
"No I'm not! And I'll take a pregnancy test to prove it."
I think you already know how that went. She went to my dad, amazed, saying "I'm pregnant." And he said, "Yes, I know." In fact, he'd already told a coworker. One of my dad's coworkers knew about my mom being pregnant before she knew herself!
After this discovery things started to make sense. Duh, it was the pregnancy that made her run out of her class(es) for the bathroom every so often. By the way, she had an agreement with her professor(s): if he didn't stop her to ask her why she was running out of his lectures, she wouldn't throw up in the classroom.
Then of course mom had to tell her best friend that she was pregnant. This friend of hers had also already known about the pregnancy, and had her feelings hurt that mom hadn't told her before.
*sigh* I wonder if there's any connection between the above story and the fact that I was born two weeks late...