My husband was playing in a cash game at Mandalay Bay. We had a babysitter that night. I had a long day at work and was 9 months pregnant. I decided to swing by the poker room anyway. See, there’s not much for a pregnant lady to do in Vegas so I had been playing a lot of poker that past 9 months. Plus the WPT was at Mandalay Bay, and who knew it could be fun. I jumped into a $50 satellite and won an entry into the $500 nightly tournament. I went to the cage and requested the chips to cash out. I was told I had to play and could not take the money. I turned to the player in line behind me and attempted to “sell” him my seat. Again I was told, I must play this win was non transferable. What had I gotten my pregnant self in to. I went over to the tournament director and begged that my husband play in my spot. I was really in no condition for any more poker that night. I was so uncomfortable, I was literally having contractions. For the third and final time, I was told I would have to play or forfeit the money. Now as uncomfortable as I was, not playing was not an option. Obvious logic applies here.

I took my seat and started the tourney. I was used to playing smaller buy ins, and although I had satellited into this bigger buy in, it was still scary to me. As the tournament ensued, my chip stack grew. I was playing the best poker of my life and the poker gods were on my side too. I was hitting everything and they were missing everything. Fast forward to 2:00 in the morning , we are down to the final table and I can’t barely stand the pain. My contractions were awful, my back hurt and I felt like I could not breathe, I thought I might go into labor that night. I was telling all the men at the table my predicament and none seemed to care so much. My own husband (who had been railing me since he got knocked out of the same tournament hours before) was not too interested in anything other than a win. We were down to the final 3 and I had to go home. That very moment felt like relief was finally upon me. I wanted to chop. It was late, I was tired and in pain and ready to have a baby! Of course these 2 men would be open to chopping now that we were three handed. One man agreed while the other was adamant he would not chop. Apparently, he felt he was a better player than me and saw I was hurting and ready to make a mistake. It was just a matter of time before he busted me, why chop? He offered me a break, which was not enticing at all. That would only extend my long night. Then I cried. A full blown immature emotional cry, right at the poker table!

We continued to play, and it happened. Just as the man predicted, he got the better of me 3 handed. He raised the button as he had been every round, and I came over the top of him with my ace 10. I was pot committed with my re reaise, so when he shoved all in I snap called. As quickly as I called he flipped over his aces with a smirk. But see as luck would have it, or the poker gods who had been on my side all night, or maybe just karma – I ran my ace 10 right through his aces. I knew when I saw one 10 on the flop he had no chance. I ended up winning the tournament. The fist pump that night was made with the ultimate pleasure. It was awesome. I’m so glad my husband was there to see it. I only wished another woman was present. She could have really shared the joy and righteousness with me. But there wasn’t. There hardly ever are. My final tables are filled with men who like to call me honey, and have no sympathy for a really really pregnant lady!

Funny thing, I felt like I really did have 2 players in every hand that night. I had the baby the following day. Then I cried again, but not at the poker table.

Photocred to A National Acrobat

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