...the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

Umm, this morning has sucked. It's not the worst morning I've ever had my whole life, but it's right up there. Emma woke me up this morning at 6:30 to tell me she had a cough. I told her when it was time to get up we'd eat breakfast and then I'd giver he some medicine. She seemed ok and went back to bed since we don't have to get up until 7:15. It wasn't long before she was back whining that her stomach hurt and she didn't want to go to school. I did good today and told her she was going to school, and if she was really sick the nurse would call me to come get her. She cried all morning, refused to eat breakfast, and alternated between saying my tummy hurts, I don't want to go to school, and I don't like school it's not fun there. I told her she was going to school today regardless. We took her to the doctor yesterday and he gave us medicine for the only thing that might be wrong with her, so there was nothing else I could do.
At least she willing walked to the bus stop today. Then the bus arrived and she started screaming. I don't mean crying louder, I mean screaming, "I don't want to go to school!" while she cried. This of course led to me crying and begging her to get on the bus. I actually physically drug her onto the bus and when I backed up so the bus could leave, she ran off it. That happened 4 or 5, maybe more, times before I gave up and said I'd just take her to school myself so the bus wasn't any later than we'd already made it. God love Emma's bus driver. She's been doing it for 15 years and gave me a sympathetic smile and said Emma will get used to school and things will get better.
So I walked Emma back home, woke up Megan, and put everyone in the car. We got to school Emma got out of the car and walked inside willingly. At the door most of the other parents were stopping, so I gave Emma a hug there and told her I loved her and I'd see her later. I watched her walk in and turn the corner to go to her class and then turned around and started walking back to the car with the other two. Ten feet later I hear it; Emma screaming. I turn around begging in my head for it not to be her. It was. Luckily a teacher was coming after her. The teacher asked if Emma was mine, and I said yes. Thankfully this teacher took pity on me and said she's take Emma to class. Last I saw Emma was clinging to the handrail by the sidewalk outside of her school screaming and crying. The good news is school started 30 minutes ago and I haven't gotten a phone call yet.
I am a mess now. I am hideous when I cry, so just imagine what I look like after two days of it. I don't know what to do, but if things don't get better with her really fast, I'm going to need serious psychiatric help to survive. I can't believe I have "that" kid, and all I can do is cry about it.