It's Not All Donuts and Rainbows

On our second day in Maine, we headed north to Portland to pay a very important visit to The Holy Donut, and catch the ferry out to Peaks Island. In the forefront of my mind was that July 5th would be test results day, but a potato donut {okay, two}, and some salty air were a welcome distraction. 

Tee Shirt: Daisy Natives
Skirt: Amazon
Shoes: Target Kids Section {Sold Out} Similar Here
Purse: Kate Spade {Sold Out} Similar Here
Sunglasses: Kate Spade

This pomegranate donut was crisp on the outside, chewy on the inside, delightfully tart, and super satisfying. I ate my salted chocolate one in bed later that day and it was an equally wonderful experience.

Peaks Island is about 20 minute via ferry off the coast of Portland, and if I didn't already love Maine enough, this quaint, quiet village was a retreat even deeper into the charm of New England. After disembarking, we quickly put our name in to reserve a golf cart -- the preferred mode of transport on the island -- and headed straight for lunch. We ate at the closest place, the Inn. The food was great, the view was even better. 

It takes about 15-20 minutes to completely circumnavigate the island, so we did it twice! The first time, just to take in the view, and the second time, we stopped off a the myriad of different beaches and wandered among the tide pools, guerilla stacked rock sculptures, and tree-lined shores. Zooming around that little island, and the ensuing tears from laughter on that gold cart, is one of the highlights of this trip. We soon became thoroughly sunburned and tired and decided to head back to the mainland.

When we came back into cell phone reception, I got two bits of news. My childhood best friend and her husband had decided to take the plunge and move to Nashville. This happy news buoyed me during what came next.

When the doctor called with my results, the news, for me, was worse than bad... it was inconclusive. Still being in the dark about what was going on with my pregnancy and health was a blow only my spare chocolate donut could save me from. Essentially, my HCG levels had again climbed, but not as much as was expected, and the ultrasound I had suffered through, seemed to yield no evidence either way. They could see the gestational sac, but they couldn't find a fetal pole. {I had to google that term, it's basically the earliest sign of a developing baby.} It can be seen via transvaginal ultrasound at 6 weeks, abdominal ultrasound at 8 weeks, but it's possible and normal to not have a visible one until 9 weeks. Given, I imagined that I was between 6 and 8 weeks and I had had both kinds of ultrasounds, I was really disheartened to hear that they couldn't see one at all. The good news was that I had a gestational sac, so I was pregnant with something. They told me to just keep going like I was indeed pregnant, even though I was spotting red every day, and to see my OBGYN when I got back.

I had been hoping beyond hope that I would get some conclusive news, and again, I was left feeling so frustrated and confused. I was lucky to not be in any physical pain, but I couldn't get my brain to stop questioning, or my hands to stop googling symptoms. I can't help thinking, in retrospect, that even though it was not the story I wanted to live, it might have helped me accept my fate if there had been any info on the internet about an experience like mine. So, that's why I'm writing this.


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