My chant

October 1, 2009

Ultrasound tomorrow, and this is all I want to hear:

Everything looks good. Everything looks really good. Everything looks normal. Everything looks fine.

I’ve said it before but good, fine, normal – these are my words. I want to hear them until I can forget (for a minute or two at least) that other words exist.

N and I were talking about this and he reminded me that, even if we hear those words, it doesn’t guarantee anything.  I was surprised by how angry I was at him for being so right, for reminding me of what I don’t want to remember.  Not that I was really angry at him.  I am angry that “nothing is certain” seems to be a lesson I can’t escape.

Even knowing that nothing is certain, I’m still out for all the encouragement and hope I can get.  So to bridge the time between now and tomorrow at 1:30 or so, I’m going to keep chanting away in my head.

Good. Fine. Normal. Good. Fine. Normal. Good. Fine. Normal.




  1. Good. Fine. Normal. Good. Fine. Normal. I’ll keep saying them for you, if it helps at all.
    Sadly your hubby is right, it was all good, fine and normal with Hope and she still died. But that’s not to say this time around that I didn’t want to hear those words again. Because lets face it, hearing the alternative is never a good thing. Or fine. Or normal.
    Good, fine and normal gets us all one step closer.
    Holding my breath, Erica…..

  2. The only way I’ve been able to get this far in this pregnancy is to just take heart in the fact that everything is good, fine and normal as of this moment. Who knows what tomorrow may bring, but all is fine right now.

  3. Good, normal, fine, good, normal, fine . . .

    Ignore N. these words will help even though you know those other words exist.

    I’ll be waiting for your report tomorrow. Until then, just these thoughts good, normal, fine . . .

  4. Just praying hard that everything is good, fine and normal from here on out.

  5. Chanting with you and everyone else here. I never knew how much I would come to love that little word, normal. A word I always thought was grey and boring. Actually turns out to be precious, glittering little gem. Who knew?
    Thinking of you and I hope that you hear all of these words, several times, during your scan. xo

  6. chanting with you, thinking of you and your little one mightily.

  7. I wrote something similar after my 20 week scan. I know it guarantees nothing but, just for now, I choose to believe those words … everything appear normal.

    Good, fine, normal …

  8. Thinking of you today.

    My u/s technicians have been using the word “beautiful” a lot. I hope you hear that today.

  9. hoping you heard ’em. and yes, seconding Heather…hoping you heard “beautiful.”

  10. hope you got all those good normal fine words and a look at your beautiful babe in there

  11. I’m here too…thinking of you and the little one inside and hoping you heard those words. And I completely agree with taking it one day at a time and hanging on to whatever reassurance you can get. I had a normal scan at 18 weeks and then another at 22 weeks that revealed a placental problem and was the beginning of the end. Those four weeks of thinking everything was okay were the best of my pregnancy, and now I’m very grateful for that time of relative peace that I had with my baby.

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