How Becoming a Poker Pro Helped Me Accept a Personal Tragedy

Of course, improbable isn’t the same as impossible. Everyone at the table gasped as the dealer flipped the next two cards: both hearts. The TV crew rushed over to capture the unlikely flush. For a redhead with rosacea and an obsession with chess queens, losing to the queen of hearts was a fitting finale.

I had no regrets. Like many poker players, I try to avoid results-oriented thinking. Instead of focusing on whether I won, I looked at how I played. Rather than bemoan the outcome of losing with aces, I spent the next few days thinking back on my previous plays, scouring for errors.

Fighting our bias toward results-oriented thinking can be difficult, but it’s often just good sense. As an example, once, I rushed for my bathroom on a break from an online poker tournament. Careless, I tripped on a wire in the lofted portion of my Brooklyn apartment and tumbled down to the concrete floor. Luckily, I landed on a couch on the lower level.

The result of my reckless hurry wasn’t too bad. But the next time I had to run to the bathroom, I made sure to watch my step.

You’re pretty unlikely to almost break your legs playing poker—at least at my tables—but that sort of mental shift is just as important. Otherwise, you can fall prey to the gambler’s fallacy, assuming that bad luck will be followed by good luck. When a coin flips tails three times in a row, it might seem like heads is due. But the chances are still 50/50. Over time, luck gives way to math.

That’s why success in poker is not only about playing well, it’s about playing a lot, and having the support network, confidence and money to keep at it.

Ultimately, knowing this made it easier for me to accept the defeat in my World Series run. Plus, I had an ace in my dress pocket: I was secretly pregnant.

Calculating the start of a pregnancy can be confusing. It’s generally determined not by when you conceive, but rather by the beginning of your previous menstrual cycle. We found out early, at four weeks and two days, with an at home-test. But had we not been actively trying, I might not have noticed for a couple more weeks.

We waited to share the news with our friends and family out of caution. After all, according to the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, 26% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. But as I cashed out in Las Vegas, I realized I had passed through my first trimester.

My healthy son was born in early 2017. When I looked into his brown eyes, I knew for sure: Though I had lost aces to queens, this was the 20% that really mattered. Sometimes, not getting unlucky is the best form of luck.

A year and a half later, we tried again.

Since my husband and I were fortunate enough to be fertile, as evidenced by our quick success the first time, we knew exactly what to do for the second baby. I was convinced we’d conceive right away.

I was wrong. Ten cycles later, we’d had no success. A year of misses at age 38 wasn’t promising, especially since we’d decided against IVF.

As the clock ticked down, a work trip for a women’s chess event took me to Orlando. My husband and I arranged a rendezvous at the event, timed for one of the best days of my cycle. My son, 2 at the time, didn’t even need a ticket to get into Disney World. (They did try to shake him down for admission fees when he called the horse on the carousel a knight. How can a 2-year-old know chess pieces? He must be…at least three!)

A couple weeks later, we got the good news. Pregnant! Again, I found myself addicted to counting percentages. Each day, my chances for success got better. I smiled wider. We told a few friends.

Then we had a follow-up ultrasound. Routine, they said. When I looked at the technician’s face toward the end of that appointment, my poker training made it obvious: Something was off. She said she couldn’t say anything—only a doctor could talk to me now. But everyone is allowed to tell you good news.

The miscarriage cost us over six months of trying, when accounting for my recovery. The Orlando trip had crushed our dreams and set us back. It was hard not to immediately react to the result with anger.

“We never should have gone,” I almost said to my husband. But I realized, I didn’t actually believe that. The outcome, in this case, didn’t imply a bad decision. It soothed me, while working through my frustration, to know we lined up for the opportunity.

Poker has trained me to focus on my own decisions in a world of murky outcomes. Failure isn’t always personal: Sometimes it’s just probability. I had to learn to find solace in randomness, and not to just wallow in its cruelty.

The joy, blood, sweat and tearing of pregnancy, as well as the heartbreak of secondary infertility didn’t just make me appreciate the baby I had more. It made me appreciate math more.

Tips to Succeed at Poker, Without Even Trying

The percentage of female and nonbinary participation in poker is shockingly low, often running in single digits. An organization I’m part of, Poker Power, looks to change this by teaching one million women poker. Poker is not for anyone with a predilection for gambling. But for those who approach it strategically, here are two key principles:

1. Raise It Up. Take control and stop calling (matching your opponent’s bet) and start raising (compelling them to pay to play).

2. Watch Your Bluff-to-Value Ratio. If you constantly bluff in poker, your opponents will always call and you’ll lose all your money quickly. If you never bluff in poker, you’ll lose all your money slowly—to the antes. A great poker player finds the balance and bluffs just enough to bamboozle her opponents.

Jennifer Shahade, a two-time U.S. Women’s Chess Champion, is the author of “Chess Queens” (June 2022). She’s also a Team PokerStars Pro and a board member of Poker Power. She lives in Philadelphia.