Becoming Something Separate

I never asked my parents about when or where I was conceived. It never occurred to me to ask, and they would only be embarrassed by the question and refuse to answer. But once I got thinking about how my story began, I looked at a calendar, and counted months and so forth, and I found that I was conceived at an interesting moment in history.

It seems the Soviets placed some nuclear missiles in Cuba that month. These were discovered by a spy plane. The United States government discussed options for a response, and eventually broadcast its findings publicly. Then a blockade was set up around Cuba to prevent any further weapons being sent there.

I don't know just how close the world was to nuclear war during that time, but reports suggest that some of the Kennedy administration favored bombing the sites of the missile launchers instead of setting up the blockade. I've also read that a Soviet submarine was discovered. The Americans tried to force it to surface, using depth charges, and the captain of the sub ordered preparation of a nuclear torpedo to take out the American ships. His second in command talked him into surfacing instead. So the world really was on the brink.

So, here's how I picture it. My parents, a young married couple in a small town, heard the news, which everyone heard, and new that at any moment, missiles carrying nuclear warheads could come raining down on them, beginning a war that could end human existence completely. Mom and Dad looked up at the sky, wondering what would happen. They stepped closer to each other, Dad wrapping his arms around Mom. Feeling the heat from each others' bodies, they turned, and their eyes met. The heat and tension rose. Each feeling defiant, they clasped at each other, kissing, holding, squeezing, passion growing with each moment, and in the face of imminent death, they held a private and intense celebration of life. The crises was resolved diplomatically, and a few weeks later, Mom announced her pregnancy.

There are some issues with this version of the story. I was Mom and Dad's third child in three years, all born the same month. Mom became pregnant the first time within two months of their marriage, and again the next October, and with me the next. So the family history would seem to suggest that my parents just went about their normal business. There is no indication they even knew about the Cuban Missile Crisis. It was certainly never talked about. There is nothing to suggest it had any effect on my parents' activities. But I like that version of the story, so I hold onto it.

It does turn out I was unplanned, and was, in a sense, a failure of contraception, so maybe there was an element of passion and loss of control somewhere in the tale. As mentioned in my last post, there is no way to detect conception, but its consequences can often be found as things develop later. Sometime in October, my parents engaged in those sorts of activities that lead to formation of a zygote, which, once formed, began its growth into an embryo, and so forth. I have no memory of these events. I don't know how much I may have known then, or how much the environment may have influenced my development. I was, at that stage, not an independent organism, being entirely, and physically, dependent on my mother for my continued existence.

Some might ask, am I grateful to my mother for keeping me. I can't answer that. I can say I was not consulted in the matter of my existence, and my feelings about it have varied across a range over the course of my life. I am certainly not surprised at Mom's decision to carry me to term, as she has always been opposed to abortion, on religious grounds. I did, once, make a sort of protest against my unauthorized creation, but failed to make much change. I don't regret that failure, at least for now. I would like to believe that my continued existence is not much burden to anyone, and may add some value to the lives of some. I often enjoy myself, in one way or another, and I have helped cause the creation of two absolutely wonderful people myself.

Beginnings continue, and I expect will continue, unless the data gods rise up in anger, or more likely just rise up and get distracted, ignoring us to our doom. That's the thanks we'll get for creating them.