Um, seriously, Doc? You don’t even get points for trying

Okay, you’re right, it’s called Neve Yaakov, not Yak. But you’re wrong if you insist they’re called Crocs. This is actually a tale about a Croc. Singular.

Well, actually, it’s a tale about a Croc and a doc. Not just any doc but a hotshot doc. The one I went to see on a Thursday afternoon together with my husband to make sure my pregnancy was progressing smoothly.

He takes one look at me and chuckles, “You’re definitely expecting.” I breathe a sigh of relief. Hotshot doc can’t be wrong. But a few minutes later, we find out he is indeed wrong.

“Sorry, no heartbeat,” he says, and quickly leaves the ultrasound room, leaving us there in shock. I will my own heartbeat to keep going, as the doctor’s male assistant impatiently shuffles us out so the next couple can enter.

We somehow make it back to the doctor’s office, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the waiting room, and fall into the chairs across from him. He fills out the paperwork and confidently prints it out. Then he turns to us and sheepishly chuckles, “You win some, you lose some.”

Um, seriously, Doc? You don’t even get points for trying.