Host: Dan Kennedy

Dan: [00:00:01] You're listening to The Moth Podcast. I'm Dan Kennedy. And in this week's episode, we'll hear from two women who showed strength and courage in the face of uncertainty. 

Sue Schmidt is our first storyteller. And she told this story at a Moth SLAM. We did a StorySLAM in Miami. And the theme of the night was Ambition. I love this story. Here's Sue, live at The Moth. 

[cheers and applause] 

Sue: [00:00:30] So, the first sentence I ever learned in Italian was si prega di portare libertà, which means, “Please bring to me liberty.” Or, in my great grandmother's case, bail money. [audience laughter] My great grandmother was an Italian immigrant who came to this country and became a garment worker in New York City. She had been arrested so many times fighting with the suffragettes for the women's right to vote, that this was the sentence that her daughter most remembered about her. And so-- I'm just going to lower this. Sorry, I touched the mic. [audience laughter] I touched it. 

And so, my great grandmother died the year that I was born, so I don't remember much about her at all, with the exception of the stories that my family would tell. And this one picture, that sat on my grandparent’s wall, which was a picture of her wading in the waters off of Coney Island in this long black dress pulled up between her legs and tied off at the waist, because she couldn't afford a bathing suit. 

And so, the thing about Italian New York families is you might think that men are in charge. But really in my family, the people that were in charge were the people that could win the most arguments. [audience chuckles] And if arguing were an Olympic sport, the women in my family would be gold medalists, [audience chuckles] because while the men outnumbered the women three to one, the men in my family, when they would argue is they would use this thing called facts. [audience laughter] And they argued like it was an individual sprint. And the women would know that arguing is really a long-distance relay. [audience chuckles] There are arguments that started in small fishing [chuckles] villages in Sicily that are happening right now in Brooklyn. 

And so, in the summer of 1972, this amazing thing happened. And on television one day was Karen Carpenter playing the drums. I had to pick an instrument. I knew I wanted to be a drummer. So, I knew in order to do this, I'd have to convince the women in my family that this was a good thing to do. And so, one Sunday afternoon at dinner, I said, “I want to be a drummer.” And instantly my grandfather said, “Women don't play the drums.” And my aunt turned around, and she said, “Yeah, women can play the drums. She can play whatever she wants.” And my father then said, “Well, there are no women drummers.” And my grandmother looked at him and said, “Karen Carpenter plays the drums.” And I thought, the gold medal's going to the women. [audience laughter] 

And then my grandfather said, “Well, I don't think she's a very good role model.” And my grandmother looked at him and said, “You’re not a very good role model either, [audience laughter] and yet you are still here.” [audience laughter] And my grandfather said, “Well, she wears pants on stage.” And my grandmother said, “You wear pants. And again, you are still here.” [audience laughter] And the gold medal goes to the women. [audience laughter] And so, that fall, I joined a drum line, me and nine boys. 

Now, the other thing that was happening in 1972 was that Title IX had just been passed. So, women were showing up everywhere, and boys were pissed. And so, I showed up every day with my drumsticks, and I practiced really hard. And in spite of everything that they did, they stole my sheet music, they would take my drumsticks, I persevered. And so, when this came for the winter concert, the bandmaster picked me to play the drum set. And this was an incredible honor. And I knew every single stroke of that music. My parents were so proud that my mother bought me this long green velvet flowing gown. [audience laughter] And so, this thing was incredible. 

I get on stage, and I'm playing along. I look over and all the boys are snickering at me and laughing at me, and I'm not just paying attention at all. And then, I realize somewhere between the Hanukkah Medley and Frosty the Snowman, [audience chuckles] that a long velvet gown is not the best thing to play for the drum set. [audience laughter] And so, I look out into the audience, and I'm panicked. [unintelligible 00:04:56] looks over at me, he's like, “I'll take your jump set solo.” And I was like, “Hell you will. I'm doing this.” [audience laughter] I'm not quite sure how I'm going to get into the position for the drum set in this long gown. 

I look out at my family. There's three rows of them. My grandmother is so proud, she's crying. I know in that moment what I need to do. I stride up to the corner of that stage, and I reach down and I pull that dress up between my legs- [audience cheers and applause] -and I tie that frickin thing off at the waist. I sit down at the drum set, and I frickin rock that thing. [audience cheers and applause] 

I come off stage, my family's in the lobby, and my grandmother comes up to me, and she hugs me, and she says, “Your great grandmother is here with you tonight. [audience laughter] And she's so proud.” I fell asleep that night with the cymbal’s ringing in my ears and that feeling of your heart pounding in your chest when you've worked really hard for something and you've been able to achieve and I realized I don't think my great grandmother meant bail money at all. 

I think she meant liberty. I think she meant the right for women to vote. I think she meant the right for us to show our legs at Coney Island on a hot summer day [audience chuckles] without being harassed. And I think she meant the hope that comes that if you work really hard for something, even if you don't get to achieve it, that one day maybe your daughter or your granddaughter or your great granddaughter will get to be up on stage, and they will just get to rock that frickin thing. 

[cheers and applause]

Dan: [00:06:50] Sue Schmidt is a stand-up comedian, storyteller, and also happens to be our regional producer for The Moth StorySLAM series in Burlington, Vermont. She told this story while she was on vacation in Miami. Sue's work has been featured on New England Public Radio, on CBS Sunday Morning. She's a teaching artist at the Flynn Center for the Performing Arts, and founder of Say It Forward Productions, an organization that helps nonprofits bring the stories of their work to life. To see Sue rocking out with her band called the Brevity Thing, you can find links to those photos on our website at themoth.org. 

Next up is a story from Robin Utz. Robin shared this story a few weeks ago at a Mainstage in Boston. And the theme of the night was Into the Deep. So, a quick word of caution. Robin's story tackles difficult subject matter. If you have been down this road, you'll identify with the subject matter. Also, if you've been down this road-- Hey, know that I went down it too. All of our stories are different. And this is Robin's story, live at The Moth. 

[cheers and applause]

Robin: [00:08:16] I was pretty sure about my husband right off the bat. When I met him, I loved how he talked about the things that he loved so much. He would have me come over to his apartment and we'd watch Soul Train YouTube clips until late in the evening. He would look at me with these adoring eyes and say, “It's the happiest place on earth.” [audience laughter] And I was like, “It really is.” [laughs] It took me no time to know I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, and it took pretty much no time to realize I wanted to have a child with him, and the happily ever after has been easy. We're still as in love today as we've ever been. But the child part has not been so easy. 

It was after four years of trying two rounds of in vitro, three frozen transfers from those in vitros, and a miscarriage, that we finally got pregnant with our daughter Grace Pearl. [audience cheers and applause] 

We were just ecstatic. The pregnancy went like a breeze. And before we knew it, we were at the anatomy scan, which happens a little over halfway through the pregnancy. And I could not wait. I wanted that profile shot. You know, you get the little side profile that everybody thinks about with an ultrasound. And Jim wanted to see it too, so he came to the appointment with me. We were having a nice time. We were just chattering about where we were going to get lunch. It took me a little bit to notice that the ultrasound technician, Nicole, was not saying a lot. She was making concerned noises and she goes, “There's not a lot of amniotic fluid. I want you to roll on your side and I'm going to talk to the doctor.” 

So, I do that, hoping that it'll prompt Grace to move to a better position. She comes back and tries to scan again, and no change. Grace has not moved. And she says, “There's no amniotic fluid. And I'm sorry, I know that's not what you don't want to hear.” And I'm like, “It's not? Okay. All right”. So, she leads us down the hallway to go talk to the doctor. And I Google second trimester, no amniotic fluid. What stares me back in the face is 80% to 90% fatal. And I'm like, “Shit.” It does not improve when we get into the doctor's office. 

There is a waiting room in the doctor's office that is full of newborn pictures that my doctor has just delivered. Most of them featuring her, and they're all smiling. She comes in, not smiling, and introduces herself to Jim, my husband, as Jen. And I'm like, “Shit, not Dr. Meyer, Jen. That's not a good sign.” She explains the following. Our daughter's kidneys are huge. They're full of fluid filled cysts. Basically, they're not working. And the way that babies work when they're in the womb is amniotic fluid travels through the kidneys and is urinated out, goes through it, is swallowed by them, and it cycles. And without that cycling, their lungs will never develop. They can't breathe. 

She explains that the prognosis is not good. And we burst into tears. To confirm this, she has scheduled an emergency second ultrasound an hour later, also in this hospital. And for now, she lets us leave out a side door, so we don't have to go through the waiting room full of expectant mothers with their full bellies for all of our sakes. I walk past a half-eaten birthday cake on the way out. We get outside, and it is an unusually warm November day, and people are milling everywhere, and I cannot believe the earth has not stopped taking their lives with it. Just stopped in place. And I can't even stop. 

My parents knew that this ultrasound was happening right then, and I can't not call them and tell them what's happened. So, I call, and my mom answers within a second, and she's like, “How was it?” And I'm like, “Not good.” And she drops the phone. I can hear her sobbing. My dad picks it up a few seconds later and asks what happened. I do my best to tell him while Jim's rubbing my back and silently crying next to me. And my dad asks if he can be there with us for the second ultrasound, and we agree. And that's where we meet him in the waiting room for the second ultrasound. 

He gives us each huge hugs and makes jokes about the reading material. And I'm so grateful he's there, dad jokes and all. And soon, we're taken back for the second ultrasound. It's about two hours of detailed pictures of our daughter. She shows us the kidneys, and the little black dots on them which are the fluid filled cysts, and she shows us that there's no black background, which is what amniotic fluid is. So, there is not going to be that profile picture. 

The doctor comes in and introduces herself as Dr. Gray. And my dad goes, “Like Grey's Anatomy.” And I'm like, “I don't think he's ever seen that show.” [audience chuckles] I always loved that he was being humorous in that moment. She asks what we know, so we explain what we've heard so far. And she said, “That's right. There are two outcomes for your daughter. She'll either be stillborn, having been crushed to death by your body, because there's no amniotic fluid, or she will be born and the wheels will come off.” 

I remember that phrasing, the wheels will come off. Without working lungs, she'll never survive and she'll die within minutes, hopefully in my arms. My dad thought to ask, “What are the odds for a baby like this?” She looked at him and said, “None.” And she looks at me and says, “Your baby would be the first if she made it.” She then starts to explain the laws around abortion in the state of Missouri where I live. She says that, “You have to first sign consents, which aren't always easy to schedule,” because only certain people can allow you to sign them with them. “Then you have to wait 72 hours, I guess, to consider what you're doing. You also can't have an abortion after 21 weeks.” 

Six days. I'm 20 weeks and six days when this happens. There's an upcoming weekend and a Thanksgiving holiday, so we have no time to think about it. We have to decide almost immediately if we want to be able to do this, if we choose to in time. She leaves the room to give us a moment, and we all just burst into tears. We're all hugging one another and just inconsolable. I think about it and I'm just like, “What choice do we have? She's going to die 100%. And if we don't terminate this pregnancy, she will suffer 100%.” I look at Jim and I'm like, “We have to terminate, right?” And he's like, “Of course, we do.” Even my dad, who was raised Catholic, agrees it would be cruel to do anything else. 

The doctor comes back in, and we tell her we've made our decision. And she says, “I didn't want to sway you, but your risk would go up seven times if you didn't do this now.” And that's just the risk of being pregnant. She explains that they will have somebody call us as soon as possible to get the signed consents scheduled, because we're so short on time and we're lucky to be able to get in the very next day. Jim and I go to a facility where a doctor in scrubs meets us and takes us back to a conference room. There are papers laid out. 

Before I can even look at them, she pauses us and she says, “These are state mandated forms. They're not medical. They contain judgmental language that is designed to make you feel bad. It is not how we feel about you.” I look down and I'm asked to be to sign, saying that I have been offered to hear my daughter's heartbeat. I listened to my daughter's heartbeat on a home Doppler every other day. I have a recording on my phone. We're asked if we had been offered to hear or to see an ultrasound. I'd had three hours of ultrasounds just the day before, and I also had asked for extra ultrasounds because I wanted to see her anytime I could. 

Then I opened a packet and on the very first page, in bold indented letters, it says, “Human life starts at conception. You are ending a separate, unique human life.” And my grief was interrupted by outrage. Nowhere in this documentation was how much Grace would suffer. None of it talked about the increased risks to my health. It was all just biased on one side. I wanted to light them on fire, but I signed them. I had to. And that started the 72-hour clock. 

That was the longest time in my life. It was a slow marching through time where my friends seamlessly cleared their calendars to invite me over to do jigsaw puzzles and drink tea with them. My parents came over, and they removed every stitch of baby clothing and items out of our home. I took pregnancy approved sleeping pills, I hugged Jim harder than I thought possible and hoped we could just meld into one person, I cried and cried and cried. And the night before the termination, I asked Jim how he wanted to say goodbye to Grace. 

While I thought about this, I thought about how sure I was about my decision. I knew other people might make a different choice than I did. And there was a part of me that wanted to give birth to her and hold her, but I couldn't imagine doing anything but what we were doing because it felt cruel to do anything different. It was so definitive. And I never thought I would have an abortion, but I've never needed to think about it. Jim said he wanted to have a dance party for her, [audience chuckles] our own little Soul Train. And he made a playlist of songs he'd always wanted her to hear and always wanted to teach her about. And so, in our pajamas late at night in our living room lit by candles, we danced with Grace. 

We played Riot Grrrl music, and some Rolling Stones, and laughed at let's spend the night together because we'd always thought it would have a little different meaning with a newborn. [audience chuckles] When Mick Jagger sang Baby, I patted my little baby bump and we sang at it and we slow danced to (Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay, which Jim has always said is a perfect song just the way that it is. 

We had to be at the hospital at 05:00 in the morning the next day. And in the operating room as the pre-anesthesia cocktail hit me, I looked at my doctor in the corner and I was like, “I need you to know that I love my daughter. I'm doing this, because I love my daughter.” The nurse rubbed my arms, and I was gently turned and laid back on the operating table and they put my headphones in. They told me I wouldn't be asleep. And so, we played Grace's playlist, and that's how we said goodbye to her. I'm pregnant again. [audience cheers and applause] It's a girl again. I'm so excited. [audience cheers and applause]

I can't wait to see what she's like and to teach her things. I can't wait to hold her hands while she's learning to walk, and to braid her hair and to teach her about one of my favorite songs, Harvest Moon. I really want her to grow up in a world where she's valued, where her humanity and dignity and her ability to make the best decisions for herself are respected. Thank you. 

[cheers and applause]

Dan: [00:22:31] Robin Utz is a professional project manager, avid concertgoer, and music fan, and she's also a traveler. She's currently 26 weeks into her pregnancy. She's due in early February. And if you want to follow more of her story, just visit our site, themoth.org. 

So, yeah, shifting gears on the way out the door here. On the eve of midterm elections, we really want to remind everybody that political matters are always at their heart about people and their stories. So, we would like to remind you to get out to the polls and exercise your right to vote. And of course, we'd also like to remind you, as we do every episode, to have a story-worthy week. Thanks for listening. 

Catherine: [00:23:21] Dan Kennedy is the author of Loser Goes First, Rock on, and American Spirit. He's also a regular host and storyteller with The Moth. 

Dan: [00:23:29] Podcast production by Timothy Lou Ly. The Moth Podcast is presented by PRX, that's Public Radio Exchange, making public radio more public at prx.org.