Be My IVF Valentine

I was never a huge fan of Valentine's Day as a holiday. It goes way back to kindergarten. I remember the smell of glue and scatterings of doilies, colorful papers, and scissors. Back then in the utopian world of elementary school everyone got a Valentine because love was to be for everyone. We all picked out packages of Valentine cards to give to the entire class. Everyone expected one in their cubby and that was that. On the other hand, the construction of our own Valentine's cards during class was slotted for the special people in your life - Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, and maybe if in a good mood, a sibling. There wasn't suppose to be anyone romantically "special" to receive these hand-crafted cards. 

So when a little boy at my table gave me a huge crayon colored heart with my name + his name on it, I got really mad. Madness came from the fact that he was NOT the boy that I liked, but regardless of even that, it is nearly impossible at that age to enjoy such blatant publicly spelled out love attention from a boy. One might expect a pull on a pig tail or a sticking out of the tongue, but the worst thing he could have done was give it to me in front of my entire table of fellow kindergarteners. They all proceeded to roar with laughter doing the sing songy "My name and His Name sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" In my utter embarrassment, I tore up the Valentine right in front of the little boy's face awaiting the audience's reaction. I did it painfully slow so he could feel every rip. The table paused and then burst out with a new rigorous laughter, but this time it was for him. I guess even at that young age the drama of rejection is thrilling entertainment.

I will always feel bad for what I did to that poor sweet boy who innocently tried to show me his love. What can I say, I just snapped. I became heartless to protect my own skin. No doubt kids are cruel in that particularly doggy dog world of kindergarten. So the memory stayed with me and I never felt very gushy about Valentine's Day after that. The funny thing is that in the end, I married that boy who gave me the Valentine. Not literally that same boy, who I hope is not today also blogging about the girl in kindergarten who scarred him forever, but a man who very much would have been a boy like that in kindergarden. A person who wears his heart on his sleeve and would have probably gone up to many girls in his elementary school with earnest and heartfelt Valentines. It was confirmed when my husband confessed that he was indeed that type of little boy and even fell in love with his kindergarten teacher who he would call on the phone just to talk. 

So years later I think the gushiest feeling I can admit to having on this Valentine's day is the fact that IVF has revealed the sweetest kind of valentine, the most supreme form of love, which goes well beyond any puppy love crush, or a lustful encounter, or even "husband" in the traditional meaning of the word. Through IVF our partners are the people who keep us standing through unbearable, unthinkable moments.  You know it's really love when your partner will masturbate into a cup on command, tolerate your hormonal insanity, keep optimistic about your prospects, and hasn't tossed you aside for wife number two or three like some emperor in need of an heir. They are quite happy to spend their lives with us, with children or without. What better kind of valentine could you have?

Tell me your most memorable Valentine moment. Good, bad, sappy, romantic?