Man, I was just scrolling through the calendar the other day, you know, waiting for a coffee to brew, and I saw my buddy Mark’s birthday coming up. Big time Pisces, right? February 25th. And suddenly, it just hit me: when the heck do people need to actually do the deed to end up with a Pisces baby? It seems like such a random thing to think about, but once that question gets stuck in your head, you have to find the answer.
I didn’t want the textbook answer. I wanted the real answer, based on the people I actually knew. So, I figured, let’s make a game out of it. Let’s do some reverse engineering, my own little practice record, you know? This wasn’t some academic study. This was just me and my phone contacts, trying to unlock a messy secret.
Getting the Dates and Running the Clock Back
First thing, I pulled out my phone. I have, like, seven people in my contact list who are solid Pisces. That’s my data set. I started with Mark. February 25th. I went straight to the other ones I remembered.
- Mark: Feb 25th
- Sarah: Mar 10th
- My Cousin Mike: Mar 18th
- Old Colleague Ben: Mar 1st
Okay, so the rough rule is nine months, right? But anyone who’s ever been around this or had a kid knows it’s never an easy nine months. It’s more like 40 weeks, and sometimes babies are early, sometimes they are late. It’s a total mess, but I kept it simple to start, using the standard 40-week gestation period to find a rough conception date.
I grabbed a piece of scrap paper—the back of an old receipt, naturally—and I started marking the date. If Mark was born February 25th, I had to figure when his mom last had a period before the magic happened, which usually puts conception around 38 to 40 weeks before birth. I mean, who knows the exact day, but we’re looking for the month here.
The simple reverse calculator action:
For Mark, if the birth date is Feb 25th, I slid back four weeks at a time: January, December, November, October, September, August, July, June, May. If you hit February 25th and go back 40 weeks, you land around the end of May.
So, there we go. Mark was a May baby in the making. That’s what I wrote down. Conception in May.
The June and July Crowd Showed Up
Then I hit Sarah, the March 10th baby. You slide that one back 40 weeks, you’re not in May anymore. You sail right into June. Early June, maybe the first week. Sarah was definitely a late spring project, you know? June conception.
Then there was Mike, the March 18th cousin. That just pushes the start date further. I ran the calculation again, working backwards from mid-March, and that firmly planted him in mid-to-late June. The same goes for the one friend I had who was born on March 20th—right on the cusp of Aries. I ran the clock back on him, and that calculation put him squarely in the July window. That was a big surprise for me because July always felt like the month for Leo or Virgo baby projects, not Pisces.
My simple practice gave me a much messier answer than I expected. Forget the single month. It was spread out. I found that if you wanted a Pisces, you had to be thinking about it from May all the way through July. That’s the window I personally proved for the Pisces I know. It’s not one month. It’s a whole damn season of conception.
People ask me all the time why I keep these bizarre records. Why I spend a Tuesday morning running clock math on my friends’ possible conception dates. The simple truth is, I can now, and I’m going to.
I used to work for a major distribution company, right? Big time warehousing. I was the guy making the spreadsheets that nobody read. The pay was decent, the hours were garbage. My old boss, a real piece of work, always had me on the hook. One time, I had a family emergency—my sister had a bad slip and needed surgery, suddenly. I told him I needed a week, an emergency leave, you know?
He told me, straight to my face, that if I walked out that door, I wouldn’t have a job to come back to. I’d be replaced before I hit the parking lot. I walked out anyway. I drove straight to the hospital.
When I called in a week later, they acted like they had never heard of me. HR lady was the politest person I had ever met, and she told me they had “no record of my employment.” My severance check showed up, and it was half what it should have been. I called the company back three times, the last guy just hung up on me.
That was the moment I realized I couldn’t trade time for money that way anymore. Not for someone else’s company. I took all my savings, bought some decent gear, and started blogging and doing consulting work from my kitchen table. Never looked back. Now I can sit here, drink cold coffee, and reverse-engineer my buddy Mark’s start date without worrying about getting canned. And that, my friends, is a huge win.
