Affirmations for the The Bad Month.

Listening to my brothers and sisters talk, I'm wise enough to understand that "Jonah Days" (or months or years) come to all of us at times, and not just to me. Jonah periods always suck. They always have a way of knocking us out of our sense of safety and love into the realm of utter solitude, even when we're surrounded by people. Our responses differ with personality, but the sensation of everything falling through the cracks isn't a pleasant one for any of us. The arms of our souls flail about in the cold air like startled newborns exhibiting the moro reflex. Bad Times are unsettling.

Apparently, I was due for some this month.

After gaining my sea legs following two months of morning sickness and headaches (which I was anticipating), there's been a less than expected flurry of "yuck" that sucker-punched me and took my breath away. Nothing huge-I'll freely own my weenie qualities. Some weird guy was taking pictures from the woods of my kids while they were playing at the park-a police report was filed. More significantly, I experienced two separate upheavals in key relationships that yanked the emotional rug out from under me, before I even realized what was happening. (I'm still processing and reeling. It still hurts.) My kids got sick, one at a time, and therefore, mama became run-down. A week later, I got Bornholm disease, which makes breathing really painful, and, today, a sore throat. Having loosened everything from pregnancy did little to protect my ribs and ribcage, so I'm pretty sore. (the kids had a recurring bout of fever from it this weekend, too, poor loves.) My daughter is 6.5. Our 2.5 year old is teething molars as my milk dries up (predictably for my body at 17 weeks gestation). It's been a challenging month.

While I'm a tough cookie physically, intense chronic pain while care-giving completely demoralizes me. People who feel badly act badly (or, as my dad says, hurting people tend to hurt people), and I was no exception. And, since acting badly usually only increases my emotional upset, I'm kind of a hot mess.

As a mom, being that I tend to constantly have to carve out space for self care, it's really easy for me to feel very put upon by the world. When I'm sick or hurting, I start feeling *picked* upon by the universe. Mostly, I'd wager, from a perceived lack of nurture. I don't feel precious or loved while under fire, and that, for any human being, mother or not, is very difficult.

So, today, as a means of self-preservation, I'm smiling at the ways that my body is cared for and honored and appreciated, and at how the world, for all it's disconcerting qualities, is also overflowing with nurture and generosity and comfort. For these things and for these "lights" in the hard times, I am so grateful. The glow of the comfort and emotional warmth of them gently wrap around my heart and hammock my soul like a wounded bird taking shelter. That's not poetic exaggeration; it's truly how I feel.

I smile at skullcap plants, which has given up it's offerings to make the muscle spasms in my ribcage bearable so I can sleep. I smile at arnica flowers, which helped heal my daughter's hip when she fell off the banister. I'm thankful for epsom salt, and how it relieves my exhausted back. I appreciate having a tub big enough to soak it in. I'm so happy to have cocoa butter, mango butter and coconut oil to slather on my itching belly. I'm so very thankful for astragalus root, chamomile, elderberry, rose hips and I'm grateful for the wise, curious souls who discovered that herb knowledge in the first place.

My heart feels safer when I realize that autumn is coming, the hot sun won't sear us anymore here in the south, and that soon, we can go outside on a quilt and read. I'm excited about leaving the windows open, airing out the house, and the natural high I get from fresh, cool air. I'm happy about pumpkin cheesecake with gingersnap crust, and Halloween.

I sigh with relief over buckwheat and quinoa, and thank them for not containing gluten. I'm glad that garlic, lemons, carrots, ferments, water and carob exist. I'm glad for good people who grew healthy vegetables all spring and summer while I was sick (and my own garden died), and that they sell them to me at a price that doesn't break our bank. I'm grateful for friends who share my passion about things like winter squash and homemade pudding.

I'm grateful for the body pillow that my spouse got me, and for the pillowcase he sewed himself to cover it. I'm glad I had Buffy the Vampire Slayer the distract me from pain when I couldn't safely take more Advil. I'm really thankful for the lovely postpartum necessities that the good lady from Homestead Emporium is sending me. I'm so glad everyone in the family has all their clothing for the winter, and appreciate the women who organized the consignment sale I scoured.

I'm glad for the ability to call friends who don't mind a bit if I curse or yell or sob incoherently. I'm thankful for fricative consonants. I'm glad I don't feel the need to be perpetually cheerful.

I'm thankful this baby is still kicking around in my belly. I'm soothed by the knowledge that my spouse will be able to take plenty of time off after this child is born. I'm grateful for a good midwife, because even her voice over the phone takes my blood pressure down about 10 notches. I'm grateful for all the friends who are rooting for me, crying with me, surrounding me, either with arms or with warm love from afar.

I really do believe that as long as there is compassion in the world, there is hope and comfort to be had. I appreciate the people who understand and validate both my rage and my need for peace. I appreciate the wide, rich nurture that's available to me, if I bother to care a bit in return. It's sufficient.