My Mother’s Valentine

By Christine Carr Minor

February 1990

This is a story my mother told many times and one that was always especially fascinating to me, for good reason.

My parents had two small boys whose birthdays were in February, on the 17th and 20th, born two years apart. Now, after five years, she was pregnant again and the baby was expected in early March.

Mother had been taking singing lessons of a local lady, Miss Tyrell, who presented her pupils in a recital sometime in December of that year. Mother was one of the participants and it was quite apparent she was pregnant. She did not hesitate to tell the others she was hoping for a girl who might be musical. At that time it is likely this was considered merely wishful thinking.

On January 31st something very strange happened. She was having lunch at the home of her close friend, Mrs. McAlpine, whose husband was co-owner of McAlpine-Brumsted men’s clothing store here in Batavia. This is the part of the story that kept me enthralled as I heard it often in later years: her hostess was in the kitchen while mother sat alone in the living room looking at a book. Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by the distinct sound of a voice behind her saying, “The baby comes two weeks from today.” She looked around but there was no one there. It didn’t take much figuring to realize that the date mentioned would be February 14th, Valentine’s Day. Not only that but all her three children would then have birthdays three days apart.

When Mrs. McAlpine, my father, and friends were told of this experience they smiled and humored her but told her not to get her hopes up. After all, her correct date was more than two weeks beyond that.

My mother was a determined woman and following that experience there was no changing her mind. In telling her story later she said, “No one would believe me. I guess they didn’t want me to be disappointed.” In spite of this she felt it was important to contact Nurse Marsh who would be acting as mid-wife and inform her of a possible change of date. In that era babies were usually born at home.

My father described the scene on the evening of February 13th after they returned to their home on Washington Ave. by cutter. I believe that was like a small sleigh. He said, “Your mother carefully put her hat and furs away in a box. When I asked her why she was doing that she replied, ‘I won’t need them for awhile.’ I smiled to myself but decided to let hr continue her dream.”

Mother continued the story: “I woke up the next morning feeling much the same as on the previous mornings until I started to comb my hair. I had very sharp pains and when I relayed this fact to your father he immediately called for Nurse Marsh.”

Certainly by now you have guessed the rest of the story: a baby girl was born at noon on Valentine’s Day. She was named Christine after Christine Nillson, a Swedish opera star, in hopes the baby might have some musical talent.

There is a little anecdote which follows a few days later: When the 5 year-old brother went to Sunday School his kindergarten teacher said to him, “Your mother must be very happy she has the little girl she hoped for.” He replied, “I don’t think she knows about it because she is sick in bed.” Evidently children were not as knowledgeable as they are today. And so, my mother got her valentine and it has always been a special day for me, the one who brought her dream to reality.