If I do the math correctly, both of my children fought fires while still in the womb. The fire that Jacob was in was in a flop house. Maiya was in an apartment fire.
It certainly wasn't intentional. What I thought was indigestion from one too many helpings of firehouse food was actually pregnancy. As soon as I found out I was pregnant I pulled myself off the trucks and went to modified duties which included obtaining and maintaining personal uniforms, gear, and fire equipment on the trucks, as well as maintaining medical stock and stores for each firehall. So even though I missed riding the trucks, my real job was to keep the little beans safe.
It is eerie to think back that I was in working fires with both children but because I found out early on that I was pregnant, the risk and exposure to contaminants was minimal. I am also very proactive in leaving all my gear on including my breathing apparatus until the call is completely over. The overhaul period when we clean up the mess of the fire is actually as dangerous, if not more so than the working fire itself because of the off gassing of the burnt material. Modern fires are so much more toxic than they were even 50 years ago because of all the petroleum based plastics and synthetic materials.
So looking back, I should have guessed I was pregnant. Margaritas all of a sudden were vile to me, I'd go through a box of tissues while watching Grey's Anatomy, and I was hungry.
One of my crew mates suspected I was pregnant with my second child before I even realized it. He was teasing me about my voracious appetite. Must have been when I downed a giant block of baker's chocolate at the firehall. Unsweetened. Ick.