Valentine’s Day: Finally: The Perfect Holiday.

Valentine’s Day is the perfect holiday for people trying to conceive.  I know you think I’m about to go into the importance of rekindling our romance. Yeah yeah… I’ll get to that in a minute. But first and foremost:

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Valentine’s Month #3 – Why Even Bother?

There are a few reasons why I’ve labeled February as “Valentine’s Month.” (Not to take a thing away from Black History Month or Heart Health Month.) It’s just that this month has a lot of meaning for me. My husband is exactly nine days older than I am. So this, right now, is the only period throughout the year when I can say I married an older man… for at least another few days anyway.

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Valentine’s Month part 2

Infertility and its sadistic treatments have a way of gnawing at your relationship like a sewer rat. (Okay, not a pretty  visual… But I miss my NYC so much.) So at this blog, we’re doing: “Valentine’s Month” to repair all the damage. It’s like Botox for your heart.

The key to a decent Valentine’s Month, I think, is having a decent Valentine. If you have a loser Valentine who says all the right things, buys all the right gifts, and takes you to all the right places, do the math: Mr/Ms. Loser + Right words + Right gifts + Right restaurant = Mr./Ms. Loser.

However: Mr./Ms. Good Person + Valentine’s Date that went awry = Mr./Ms. Good Person + A few hours of your life that went awry… and oh have I had my share of both.

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Valentine’s Month: Rekindling for the Burned Out (Tuesday)

(Start with “Monday” if you can. No, I know. But this Monday, for some reason I was actually lucid…One might argue…coherent even…. And if you agree, please do subscribe to this rollicking good time of a blog. There’s a lot of bonus fun that will come your way on the weekend.)

So, what were we talking about? Oh right. How important Valentine’s Day is to couples dealing with infertility. So important in fact to reignite that lovey-dovey spark that infertility keeps blowing out (the bastard), that I proposed an entire  Valentine’s Month

Then I mentioned how all of my life I’ve had this fantasy of wearing a sexy negligee and then an emergency erupts and Mr’s. January thru April from the firemen’s calendar rush in to rescue me.

Except the way the fantasy ended up playing out in real life, I bought this Valentine’s Day night gown nightmare contraption and couldn’t get into it without cutting off the circulation to no less than six parts of my body. It turned more into a Stephen King movie than the soft porn flick I’d been aspiring to. Continue reading