Trials, Sleep Deprivation, And Things Nobody Appreciates

When I woke up, I was suddenly struck with the realization that I had no idea where my children were. My first order of business was to find them.

Hurry Up And Wait

I stood at attention, back straight, left arm by my side and slightly bent, with fingers curled and pressed against the seam of my uniform pants. My right hand was raised in perfect position as I swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God. Almost four hours earlier I had finished my midnight shift and spent the morning rotting away in the prosecutor’s office awaiting my turn in court for a motor vehicle trial. Whatever ticket I had written just didn’t seem worth the trouble anymore. I was smoked when it finally came time to take the stand and testify.

Generally speaking, most evenings I tried to take a nap before heading into work to make an 11:00 p.m. roll call. That didn’t happen. The night before was a blur to me as I sat in the witness stand testifying to what so-and-so had done to warrant a ticket. Somehow, some way, it seemed like if you worked midnights, your cases were always the last to be called. Court had started at 8:00 a.m. and it was now 11:30 a.m.

On Trial

Our department used police officers as prosecutors for arraignments and motor vehicle trials. That morning the prosecutor in my trial was a 20-year copper, short and stocky, with a deep voice and a thick Boston accent. He always wore fancy, pointy-toed shoes with his suits , a thick gold chain, and a gaudy ring that he would play with when he spoke. He gave off a real Godfather vibe despite the fact that I don’t think he was Italian.

Besides the lack of sleep and the looming trial, I had more on my mind. My wife was very pregnant with our third child and was ready to pop at any moment. This fact was not lost on me when my cell phone vibrated in my pocket as I recounted the events of the traffic violation. I grabbed at my pocket and pinched my phone to make the vibrating stop. It worked for a moment, but then a minute later, started up again. I tried to focus on articulating the facts and circumstances through the fog that only working the midnight shift can bring. But moments later, the prosecutor looked down at his cell phone screen and then stood up and interrupted my spiel.

You May Step Down

“Yer Honnah,” he interjected in his throaty Boston accent, “this officah’s wife is having a baby! He needs to go!”

The judge didn’t seem to miss a beat when he casually tipped his head in my direction and asked if I had anything else to add. Nope. I was excused from the stand and made a beeline for my car. The hospital was only minutes away.

Scary Cop

I don’t think there are more difficult places to find your way around than in airports and hospitals — which is kind of ironic if you think about it. Nonetheless, I persevered and found my way to Labor and Delivery where I met my wife who was wondering what she could possibly have been thinking nine months ago and convinced that this was all my fault.

I sidled up next to her hospital bed and (from what I remember) showered her in loving and reassuring words. Before I got too comfortable the hospital staff made a point to tell me that I couldn’t have a gun in the hospital.

Wait, what? But I’m a cop … and in full uniform no less. But no, they wouldn’t allow it. So I called the PD and they sent someone over to take my gun belt and uniform so that I didn’t scare the hospital staff or the various women in the pangs of labor.

It’s A Girl

My wife had a tough delivery and only moments before a C-section was ordered, my daughter was born at 5:38 p.m. She weighed over nine pounds but her body temperature wasn’t stabilizing so she was immediately sent to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit where she was a giant among preemies. It was a bit of a scare but everyone seemed confident she would be fine in a couple of days.

During this whole ordeal our oldest two kids, who were four and six years old at the time, had spent the day with friends from church. Now with my wife and new daughter safe, sound, and resting comfortably I kissed my wife and headed for home so I could get some rest of my own. By the time I got to bed I had been awake for over 36 hours straight.

Father Of The Year

I don’t remember driving home or going to bed. I just remember waking up and realizing that I had, in fact, fathered two other children and wondered where they might be. I had no recollection of what had happened to them. Thankfully that sinking feeling in my stomach didn’t last long. Miraculously, I found them in their room and in perfect condition the following morning. How they got there, I had no idea. I don’t remember them getting dropped off or me putting them to bed. Honestly, I don’t even know if I did. #FatherOfTheYear.

In the end, it all worked out. My oldest two met their baby sister, my wife didn’t divorce me, and I have no idea what happened with the motor vehicle trial.

You’ve Got This

Long overnight hours, delayed court hearings when you should be sleeping, pregnant wives, sleep deprivation, and misplaced children are just a few of the things no one tells you about when you become a police officer. They are also the kinds of things that no one really knows about outside of your closest circles — and certainly not the media or the public in general. We don’t get thank-you’s or wow-that-must-be-tough empathy cards from the taxpayer for the years shaved off our lifespans from shift work, or the missed birthdays, abused bladders, or the countless missed meals. But this is the job and the kind of life that comes with it. It can get you down if you let it.

I, for one, see you and appreciate you because I’ve been there and know what it’s like. Hang in there. You are not alone. You’ve got this.

__________________________

– What have you experienced in this job that no one told you about?
– How did you handle it?
– What did you learn from it?
– Who can you help when their turn comes?
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