My mother’s words are really the only way to describe why: “I don’t know exactly what made me do it. Maybe it was just reflex left over from when we were together. Maybe it’s because I still felt a little bit guilty over the way I had used him the last time we met. Maybe I felt the tug of that silly magical connection or whatever it is that your father is always going on about. Either which way, I knew I wanted to kiss him even though it wasn’t the smartest course of action. It brought us you, though—so I think that makes it a good choice.”
In the morning, they both decided that everything had become a little bit of a mess, and agreed to take some time apart, to decide if this was something that they really wanted to pursue or if they wanted to cut their losses before someone ended up hurt again.
A little bit over a month later, my mother was back at my dad’s house to obtain confirmation that he wanted to be in that relationship. He assured her a hundred times over that he wanted that more than anything, that if they were together it would be the happiest he’d been in a long time. She made sure that he wanted her for her before revealing she was pregnant. She didn’t want a shotgun situation.
According to my father, when Mom announced she was pregnant, he sank into a chair ad refused to believe her for a moment. According to my mother—Dad fainted into a chair and when he came to he’d forgotten and she had to tell him again.
I’m inclined to believe my mother.