One of those days.

I'm going to be honest...today is one of those days that I really wish I didn't start a blog for the world to read. Today is one of those days I wish I didn't have to tell wonderfully loving people in my life some disappointing news. Today is one of those days I'd like to crawl in my bed in the dark and just watch Usher, Blake Shelton and Adam Levine on Hulu and be left alone. Today is a day I'd like to cry a lot and be really angry that the hundreds of shots (Literally! We counted!) in my stomach and my bum haven't done anything, except for leave me looking like a domestic abuse victim. To put it simply, today is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

We went to our 6 week appointment today. We had convinced ourselves we were going to hear the heartbeats of our two little babies for the first time. (Remember, they put in two embryos.) We discussed where we'd go to dinner tonight to celebrate, how to hold the camera to videotape the heartbeats on the screen, and how we'd do a gender reveal to tell our families it's twins.  (If you can't tell, things didn't go quite like that.)

On the ultrasound, they saw one gestational sack. The other one possibly never attached, I've already miscarried, or was absorbed by the other embryo. (Google 'vanishing twin'... although it won't be as creepy as you think.) However,  in the gestational sack they weren't able to detect a "fetal pole." (I'd explain what that was if I knew.) Because we are at a highly specialized place, they hope to be able to see that at 6 weeks with their advanced machines. However, if they can't, the results aren't 100% until 7 weeks. So we will go next week (when I'll be 7 weeks) to verify if there is something in the gestational sack, or if I've already miscarried.

The ultrasound tech told us to be optimistic, to take deep breaths, and to relax this next week. (I really wanted to tell her to "shove it", but I refrained.) We've been in that exact same room, with the exact same nurse, and have been told the exact same thing; "Come back in a week... we'll hopefully see something different then!" We're just a little burned on the optimism.

I know we have two options this next week. We can sulk and mourn a bit, or we can be optimistic and hope for good news in a week. If I'm honest, I plan on doing both. I plan to eat a lot of ice-cream and cookie dough in attempts to myself feel better. (My dear friend reminded me that on days like today, calories don't count.)   I plan on crying and hugging Will a lot, and having some "next step" talks. But then, after this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, I plan on being optimistic. (Because if its own mom can't root for the little embryo to make it, who will?) I plan on convincing myself that I'm just being a dramatic, primadonna, and that everything will be A-OK when we go back in a week. (I also plan on laughing a lot, like remembering the time one of my sisters and I realized that it was a "primadonna", and not a "pre-madonna". In our defense, definitions mean basically the same thing...) I plan on preparing for when the nurse says "Miracles Happen! Listen to that heartbeat!"

I can't wait for the day to be one of those days... because THAT will be a happy day.

Love,
Kendall and Will