All My Life (27 page)

I had no idea these types of underground clubs even existed. The one we went to was across the street from the theater where the fantastic Broadway show In the Heights was running, so a lot of the musical’s dancers frequently stopped into this club after performances. I asked some of my friends from All My Children to join us so we could go with a really fun group. The club looked like the finished basements I’d seen in friends’ houses growing up. They played the best and hottest Latin music and served the coolest, most refreshing drinks.

I had the best time dancing at this club. I was free and happy, and I learned to dance Latin style from Tony. Unfortunately, I was never able to take that freedom with me to any of my actual performances on the show. And that bothered me—a lot.

Having a camera follow me around during the learning process, even that night at the club, was terribly foreign and absolutely not my cup of tea. At the time I was especially uncomfortable with how the producer tried to stir things up on camera or attempted to get me to say something in the heat of a moment. In retrospect, if I had to do it again, I wouldn’t be so sensitive. Still, there was one particular day when the camera caught something that I really felt bad about. The buildup to that moment began with an injury.

The week before, doing an early-morning rehearsal for our next dance, the jive, I somehow caught my ankle under Tony’s leg. Although I was in pain, we made it through the dance that morning. I didn’t think it would be a real setback, as I was able to stand and put a little pressure on my foot. I dashed off to hair and makeup to get ready for our dress rehearsal later that afternoon. Tony and I attempted to do the dance, which is full of kicks and jumps. I wasn’t sure that my left ankle could support my jumping on it. I stumbled a bit and tried to get through it without Tony noticing that something was wrong.

“Can we do this again?” I asked.

We made a second attempt.

Tony took one look at me and said, “What is the matter? Something is wrong. I can see it in your face. You’re in pain.”

So I told him what had happened. Tony gallantly picked me up and carried me back to my trailer, called the doctor, and waited with me until he came. The doctor told me he thought I had broken a bone in my ankle. I was so distraught, but I wanted to go on that night and do our dance! We had worked too hard to stop now. The doctor wrapped my ankle and gave me a lot of Advil to get through the show that night.

The following day, I went to Cedars-Sinai hospital and saw a wonderful doctor who treats many dancers and athletes. After looking at the X-rays, he told me that I had actually broken two bones and torn a ligament in my left ankle. The doctor had seen my “type” many times in the past—fiercely competitive and unafraid to continue despite the pain. He surely had me figured out without my saying a word.

“I know you’re going to keep dancing, Susan. If you can take the pain, I don’t think you will do any further damage to your ankle. But remember to keep it wrapped and to ice it after you dance, and I think you’ll be fine.”

This was music to my ears. I didn’t want to be a wimp, so I pushed through the pain and kept on dancing. Advil and good wrapping kept me very much in the competition. Much to my surprise, I ended up not being in as much pain as I had expected. I don’t know if my adrenaline had kicked in or if I just have a high pain threshold. Either way, I was happy it wasn’t worse.

In spite of my injury, Tony and I received straight sevens. Under the circumstances, I was pretty happy with that score. As an actress, I was used to getting notes from the director to help me prepare for my scenes, so I tried not to take the judges’ comments on my dancing to heart. I wanted to do well, but I also knew I wasn’t a professional dancer and tried to cut myself a little slack.

I had little to no contact with Len Goodman, Bruno Tonioli, and Carrie Ann Inaba, the judges from the show, other than when I listened to their comments each night after we danced. There’s a lot of merit to their knowledge and expertise when they offer their criticism. I respect each of them very much. Carrie Ann was by far the toughest on me, actually saying that I was too thin, fragile, and delicate to dance. Her comment about my weight really threw me because Tony had told me from the first day we met that I was built like a dancer. Although I am physically very strong, I might have accepted thin, but fragile or delicate, never. Telling anyone they are too thin to dance, or too “anything” personal, felt inappropriate. It had no place in a critique of my dancing. I always want to give people the benefit of the doubt, so maybe Carrie Ann simply chose the wrong words or wasn’t able to communicate what she was thinking in a more constructive way, and for that, of course, I can forgive her.

Look, I knew I wasn’t doing my best work and wasn’t completely happy with my performances. I was so terrified every time we went out on the dance floor and sometimes allowed that anxiety to get the best of me. Still, we were safe and moving on to the next round. If I could get through the jive with broken bones, I could do anything. Sure enough, something interesting happened after we got through this round. Up to this point, I had been resisting Tony’s advice about letting go of my urge to memorize the dances and overthink each step. I finally said, “Let me try it your way.” That was a seminal moment for me—one which I hoped would get us through our next dance, the tango. I was more fully committed than ever to preparing for the following week—pain or no pain

Tony and I flew back to New York and began rehearsing the very next day. We were mostly practicing very late at night and, again, on the set of All My Children. I was nursing my injury and may have been a little tired from all of the back-and-forth wear and tear. I had grown frustrated by my lack of ability to really step it up. Tony thought I was frustrated with him and I thought he was frustrated with me. In truth, we were both probably frustrated with me. When I finally hit my threshold, I unexpectedly had a mini-meltdown and broke into tears. The cameras were there to catch this moment of weakness in all its glory. I am sure I was exhausted and in pain, but I certainly didn’t need Tony or anyone else to see how I was feeling. We had a lot of work to do. There was no time for crying, yet I couldn’t seem to stop. We needed to get on with rehearsal or we’d never be ready for next week’s show.

What Tony didn’t know was that there was something else very emotional happening behind the scenes. I never shared this story with him because I didn’t want my personal life to interfere with my professional obligations or worry him.

When I agreed to do Dancing with the Stars, my daughter, Liza, was pregnant with her second child. She was due in October 2008. Helmut and I were ecstatic, and were looking forward to welcoming our second grandchild into the world. Given the timing, though, Liza and I talked about the possibility of me not being in New York when she went into labor. That was something that would have been very challenging for both of us because we are extremely close. I already had one grandchild and knew what a special and important time it was for a mother and daughter to share.

I was reluctant to do something by choice that would knowingly take me away from Liza. There were lots of family discussions, but after talking it over, we all agreed that if Liza went into labor while I was doing Dancing with the Stars, I would get there as soon as I could. What we never anticipated, however, was that Liza might go into labor early. But that is exactly what happened.

I was enjoying a wonderful August weekend with my best girlfriends from college at our summer home. We make a point of getting together every year, something we all look forward to. We had just gone down to the beach club for dinner when I received a call from Liza. She told me she was feeling a lot of pain. My daughter is not a complainer, but she said again during that conversation that she was in excruciating pain. She thought she might be in labor and wanted to go to the hospital. Her husband, Alex, was in London for business. Of course, none of us thought that being away from her in August, two months before her due date, would be of any concern. Liza wanted to be absolutely certain she was in labor before Helmut and I drove back to Garden City to be with her. Thankfully, Alex’s uncle Gregory, who lives very near to Liza, was able to pick her up and take her to the hospital. Twenty minutes later, Liza called and said she was definitely in labor.

Helmut and I excused ourselves from dinner, leaving my college friends to fend for themselves. We drove from the Hamptons back to Garden City in record time. My husband grew up driving on the autobahn, so he welcomed this excuse to drive fast. If a police officer pulled us over, he had already planned to tell him that our daughter was in labor. When we got in the car, it was a very stormy night, but as we got closer to Garden City, the rain had started to clear. Through one side of the windshield, I could see the full moon, while through the other side, I could see big lightning bolts in the sky. This was an amazing sight—Mother Nature at her most dramatic.

By the time we got to Winthrop Hospital, Liza’s mother-in-law, Valerie, whom I adore, was already there. Unfortunately, Liza’s doctor was not. He was also away. Liza was going to have her baby with whatever physician was on call that night. I thought she was being very brave. I would have been sobbing if I was having a baby and my husband and regular doctor weren’t there for the birth. Alex and Liza kept trying to speak to each on their cell phones, but they were continually disconnected.

Royce was at our house in Garden City with Alex’s aunt Claire. Helmut decided to go home so Royce would have a familiar face to wake up to, while Alex’s dad, Alex Sr., who had just returned from a business trip himself, was pretty fatigued and decided to also go home. That left Valerie and me to be with Liza in the delivery room. We both kept thinking the nurses were going to ask these two yentas to leave the room, but they never did.

I rubbed Liza’s head like I used to do when she was a little girl while Valerie held her hand. We tried to do whatever we could to soothe and comfort her. That’s when Dr. McKenzie, the most handsome young doctor with the biggest dimples, wearing jeans and a baseball hat, walked through the door.

“Yes, ladies. I really am a doctor,” he charmingly said as he got into his scrubs. He had a great sense of humor and, as it turns out, lots of experience. He just exuded calm and confidence.

When we all heard the baby let out a big healthy cry, tears of joy flowed from our eyes. What an unforgettable experience and a gift from God it was to be with Liza when our grandson Brendan was born on August 16, 2008.

Since Brendan was two months premature, the nurses took him to be checked out right away. He was going to need to be in an incubator in the NICU until he was strong enough to go home. I knew Brendan was in good and capable hands because I had had a long and wonderful experience with this hospital’s care for Andreas. It was very emotional for me to be back in the neonatal intensive care unit because it was, in fact, the same unit at the same hospital where Andreas had been treated after he was born. I was so pleasantly surprised to see that a few of the same nurses were still working there. I wanted to help Liza in any way I could because I knew exactly how she was feeling. After all, I had been there myself. I wanted to believe that my presence was a comfort to her. I also hoped it was good for Liza to know that her brother had struggled when he was born and was now a very healthy and strong young man.

Helmut and I stayed by Liza’s side until her husband was able to make it back from London. Late in the afternoon after Brendan was born, Andreas came to the hospital to join us. The three of us went to get a sandwich in the hospital coffee shop when we spotted Alex race by the window holding a big bouquet of roses. Once we knew Liza was reunited with her husband, we wanted to give them some much-needed time alone to enjoy their newborn baby. Helmut and I decided to return to the Hamptons to be with our visiting friends.

When we walked through the door, there was a cold bottle of my favorite champagne on ice waiting for us so we could all celebrate the birth of our second grandson. We toasted the new baby at sunset over the bay outside our home. It was such an extraordinary night, with a big apricot full moon rising as the sun set into the horizon. The sky was full of hot-pink and deep purple hues. Helmut left the room for a moment. All of a sudden I heard him call us to the ocean side of the house, which is flanked by sandy dunes and pines.

“Girls, come quick,” he said in almost a whisper. “Bring your cameras!”

When we went over to see what Helmut was so excited about, he pointed to a pure white deer and her baby on a nearby dune. They are so rare, especially at the beach. I turned to one of my girlfriends and asked her to please take a picture to capture this most spectacular and memorable moment. It was magic.

Brendan remained in the hospital for six weeks. I told Liza I would forfeit starting Dancing with the Stars if she felt it would be better for her to have me around. God bless my daughter. She is so strong and secure. She told me to keep my commitment to the show and not let all of my hard work and rehearsals go to waste. She encouraged me to do the show, voting for me week after week as many times as she could get through on the phone lines. After each show, she called to offer her critique, and she continued rooting for me all the way.

Right around the time I had my mini-meltdown with Tony, I could tell that Liza was really feeling like she needed me to be with her. I had been torn about being away from her from the very beginning. Call it mother’s intuition, but I just felt that Liza was done with my coast-to-coast commute and wanted me home. I didn’t have the heart to share this with Tony at the time. I didn’t want it to seem as if I had given up or that I was somehow quitting. In fact, on those Wednesdays when Tony and I were back in New York and we would meet to rehearse, I’d make sure that he and I got in whatever time we needed, but then I’d leave to join Liza at the hospital to spend time with her and the baby in the NICU. Sometimes we didn’t get to the hospital until the baby’s late feeding at eleven at night. We’d stay for an hour and a half, until the baby fell asleep. Then I’d go home, get some sleep, and go back to All My Children the next morning.