Sonia M. Rompoti, MSc, Bsc

Valentine’s Day shows up every February like a cheerful reminder of all the energy you no longer have. Hearts everywhere. Ads telling you this is the night you’re supposed to feel close, connected, romantic, glowing. Meanwhile, you’re counting how many times someone has touched you today and wondering if it’s socially acceptable to ask for silence as a gift.

If you’re parenting young kids, Valentine’s Day doesn’t land softly. It lands on top of exhaustion, routines, school lunches, emotional labor, and that low-level fatigue February brings every single year. Love doesn’t disappear. Capacity does.

And that matters.

A lot of parents quietly think something is wrong with their relationship around this time. We’re not talking enough. We’re not intimate enough. We don’t feel like “us” anymore. But February isn’t a relationship audit. It’s the month where everything feels heavier, darker, and more demanding with zero payoff.

The pressure of Valentine’s Day turns connection into a performance. You’re supposed to prove something. Care. Desire. Romance. And if you don’t have the energy to perform it, guilt slides right in. Not because you don’t love your partner, but because love now competes with survival-level tiredness.

There’s also the very real thing no one likes to say out loud: when you’re parenting, especially small children, your body stops feeling like it belongs to you. You’re touched all day. Needed constantly. Pulled in ten directions. By evening, intimacy doesn’t feel romantic. It feels like another request. Another thing to give when you’re already empty.

That doesn’t mean your relationship is failing. It means your nervous system is saturated.

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February makes this worse. The holidays are over. There’s nothing exciting ahead. The weather is dull. The routines are relentless. You’re running on fumes, and Valentine’s Day strolls in asking for candles and passion. Read the room.

What helps here isn’t “trying harder.” It’s shrinking expectations until they fit real life. Love doesn’t have to look impressive to be real. Sometimes it looks like sitting on the same couch, not talking much, and not asking each other for anything extra.

One helpful reframe for Valentine’s Day as a parent is this: connection doesn’t have to be expressed, it can just be acknowledged. A quiet “I see how tired you are” can be more intimate than dinner reservations you secretly dread. Presence matters more than performance.

If you do want to mark the day, make it survivable. Think less romance, more relief. Less planning, more ease. Something that gives back instead of demanding effort. Even agreeing together that this is not the year for big gestures can be a form of closeness. You’re on the same team. That counts.

And if Valentine’s Day passes quietly, uneventfully, without fireworks or declarations, that doesn’t mean love is fading. It means life is loud right now. Parenting seasons don’t erase intimacy. described as relationships go through quieter chapters. February is one of them.

You’re not failing Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day just wasn’t designed for parents who are already carrying everything.

And that’s okay.