The official stories of my family of origin are so ludicrous that, now that I think about them, more and more of them seem certain to me to be covering up lies.
Take the story of my conception. My mother told me once, in a whispering tone of voice, that nothing was wrong with her and that they'd been trying to have a child for 12 years because my father had a low sperm count. You can only find out you have a low count by being tested. My father recently told me they'd only been trying for 2 years and there were no real problems. It makes no sense. But his official story has changed.
My aunt told me the official story as it was told back then. My mother conceived a few months after my aunt, her stepsister, 13 years her junior, gave birth to her son. This was after 12 years of marriage. What a coincidence, right? Amazing! Only, not really. Because he felt the need to explain it, authoritatively, in such a sappy, insane fashion, that it has "FAKE" written all over it:
Allegedly, my mother held her newborn nephew and this finally got her hormones going, so she conceived!
Yes. That was the story. That's his official explanation. If you think it's ridiculous, you're not the only one.
My reconstruction of events: they've been trying for 11 years without success; they've been tested and he has low sperm count; perhaps they've already tried to use his sperm, but it's failed; he's refusing to use a donor's sperm, which makes her unhappy, but she's hopeful and won't press the issue; then, unexpectedly, her baby sister, 13 years younger, has a baby, and my mother is pushing 40; suddenly, she grows desperate and manages to persuade her husband to allow her to have a baby too; he agrees, but no one is ever to find out that he was the infertile one. She goes along with that. And much more.