A Poker Player’s Guide to Fathering Hitler

When Elinor told me she was pregnant again I was overjoyed. It was summer of 2014 and our firstborn girl Mila was just under one year old. It was going to be hard, for sure, with two-under-two. But we were as happy as we’ve ever been. As far as we were concerned, it was what life was all about.

When we went to see the doctor and learned that our due date was April 27, something snuck into a corner of my mind. There was something troublesome about the date which I couldn’t put my finger on. Then it hit me: Some time in the early 2000’s, I had spent a few months reading every word of Ian Kershaw’s masterful biography in two volumes of Adolf Hitler, Hubris/Nemesis. There were a lot of things about that wonderful book that stuck with me. The one that was relevant again now, was the birth date of that most evil of evil men — April 20, 1889.

Being a Product Manager and a Data guy, I immediately set my mind to the task. I wasn’t particularly keen on my son (we soon learned we were having a boy!) sharing Adolf’s birth date. As irrational as it may seem, it was important to avoid that scenario.

Now I’m no Nate Silver, but I figured, let’s say most kids are born within the 30 days that surrounds their due date, right? that would imply ±3%. And probably the days closer to the date are bell-curved into being more likely than the ones further out. It seemed like a good guess to me that a boy due to be born on April 27, would have about a 5% chance of actually coming out into this world on April 20.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Little Ben, as we would later name him, had only about 1 chance in 20 of some day joining Hitler on the Wikipedia page for people born on April 20. Anyone who has ever played a game of Texas Hold’em will tell you: if the odds that the other guy has the cards that kill you are 1 in 20, you’re good to go.

On Saturday, April 18, Elinor started feeling the familiar pains. During the 20 minute drive to the hospital, I imagine she was thinking of the imminent ordeal of giving birth. Her husband, meanwhile, was busy reevaluating the odds of Hitler: at that point we were likely to give birth that day, or maybe the next. A drawn out 3 day episode did not seem highly likely. I called the odds at 15%, maybe 20%. There was no point dwelling on them too much. I had admission forms to fill.

At first we were told that we didn’t have much uterine activity going on, and that it could take as much as a week before delivery. We were actually sent home, walking the walk of shame of those who arrive to the maternity ward prematurely. At that point, I figured the odds were dropping fast. Probably we weren’t going to come back for some hours, obliterating the chances of April 18 and 19. Time was on my side. Any tick of the clock with no increased spasms was reducing the odds of 4/20. Already i figured they were down to about 10%. 4/21 and beyond were finally doing their job as days, taking on more space under the probability curve.

Things were looking up.

Of course we went back on the 19th. Repeated examinations kept telling us it wasn’t time to go to the delivery room yet. But then in the small hours of 4/20, it was. My mind was whirring. At that point 4/20 was more likely than not. I figured we had an outside chance, maybe 20% of a drawn out delivery on the 21st.

That did not happen, although it wasn’t so far off. Ben was born around 6pm, April 20 2015. The odds have finally landed on 100%. My poker hand was beaten by the runner-runner.

Here he is at 8 months old. The most charming well-behaved boy that ever lived. He seems to me to be highly unlikely to become an annihilator of peoples. But i’m hardly objective. I’m his dad. Also, someone recently pointed out to me April 20 is also the birth date of Joan Miro. So my advice to you son, if you’re reading this some day: try to be more like Miro, less like Hitler. And always do as your mother says.