Anna Claire Schmidt felt slapped in the face.

She saw his words scrolling through Twitter. The video clip stopped her cold.

“The baby is born. The mother meets with the doctor. They take care of the baby. They wrap the baby beautifully. And then the doctor and the mother determine whether or not they will execute the baby.”

President Donald Trump uttered that unbelievable smear against mothers and doctors to crowds at a rally in Wisconsin last week.

Schmidt, a critical care nurse who worked for years in the neonatal intensive care unit, knew about wrapping babies in warm blankets. She’s spent those last agonizing moments with at least 15 to 20 parents. Their grief is imprinted on her heart.

She responded on social media with a message for the president.

“I have wrapped a lot of babies in blankets. Some, beautifully, like you mentioned. Some, I just did my best because when you weight a scant 500 grams, there’s far more blanket than baby.

“I have stood next to my physician colleagues as we disconnected all the tubes, wires, pumps and equipment keeping these tiny people alive. Sometimes they live weeks, even months. Sometimes only hours. We spent the majority of that time keeping them alive with heroic measures, but the time would come to transition from the frantic pace of critical care and to dim the lights, make them comfortable -- and yes, wrap them in a blanket.

“I have taken footprints from people so small that they fit in the palm of my hand. I have cut curly, dark locks of hair from beautiful full-term babies. I have lifted them out of the only beds they have ever slept in, and handed them to their mothers for what was the very first and last time. I have given medication to ease any pain, and yes, I have wrapped them in a blanket.

“Baby killers, infanticide -- if that’s how you boil down providing palliative care at the end of life for babies that will not live to take their first steps, to feel the sun on their face, to take a single step outside the hospital -- so be it. If you want to call me and the nurses and physicians I work with executioners for providing a warm, comfortable, peaceful death for dying children, go for it. But don’t talk to me about wrapping babies in blankets.”

Schmidt, 30, who lives in St. Louis, said she realizes the president was trying to rally his base against so-called late-term abortions and likely has no clue how rare and difficult such cases are. But claiming that a mother would conspire with a doctor to “execute” a newborn has nothing to do with abortion. Perhaps some are immune to yet another lie from a man who has told more than 10,000 lies during his presidency so far. But this deserves greater attention than his run-of-the-mill falsehoods. This gruesome lie reveals an exceptionally dark and twisted view of women.

“I just keep thinking about the mom who handed me her baby after he died and made me promise that I wouldn’t put him down until I put him in the morgue -- and then came back (to find me) 10 minutes later, long after I thought she was gone, to make sure I kept my promise,” Schmidt wrote on Twitter.

The president’s heinous lie hurt her on behalf of the families she has seen through this kind of life-changing loss.

“He was deliberately attacking them,” she said.

He used the word “execute” to describe mothers whom Schmidt has held while they sobbed, grieving the life their child was supposed to have.

Trump told a dangerous lie designed to agitate his supporters.

He told a slanderous lie against physicians who dedicate their lives to saving others.

And most reprehensible of all, he called mothers who have lost their babies murderers.

Hollywood actors and wealthy West Coast parents embroiled in college admission scandals, step aside. The Midwest is here to represent.

The latest episode of Parenting of the Rich and Connected takes place in the Missouri Legislature. You might think us simpletons stuck in flyover country, but our power players don’t mess with bribes and lame Photoshop to “help” their kids.

Black Hawk-level helicopter dad and lobbyist Richard McIntosh took it to another level after St. Louis’ Washington University expelled his son last year. He was kicked out after a Title IX investigation found him responsible for sexual misconduct severe enough to warrant expulsion.

Here’s some context on how often a rape allegation leads to expulsion. According to the university’s Clery statistics, 122 rapes were reported on campus from 2013 to 2017. Since 2013, only seven students have been expelled for Title IX violations, according to Lori White, vice chancellor for student affairs.

McIntosh’s son is in rare company indeed.

But back to the real star of our story. After power dad McIntosh’s son was kicked out, he didn’t try to grease hands at the university. That’s so amateur hour. Instead, he began lobbying to change the law for every college and university in the state! He started a dark money group called Kingdom Principles (an ironic flourish for you, Hollywood), dedicated to gutting Title IX protections for those who report sexual misconduct and assault. He got St. Louis billionaire David Steward to help fund his mission. In another made-for-TV-twist, Steward is on the board of trustees for Wash U. The dark money group bought polling and ad time, and hired 29 lobbyists, some of whom passionately framed the agenda as a way to protect the civil liberties of black men.

Nary a word was said about who else the law might help. The Kansas City Star helpfully dug up the hidden personal connection.

There’s another plot twist.

Not only did McIntosh want this law to go into effect immediately, he pushed for it to allow accused students to appeal the results of Title IX hearings to the state Administrative Hearing Commission. Guess who is the presiding and managing commissioner of that commission? McIntosh’s wife, Audrey Hanson McIntosh. His son could appeal his expulsion to his mom’s commission.

A move like that takes more cojones than delivering bags of cash to a lacrosse coach.

The state’s colleges were against these changes, which they said would discourage students from reporting rape and sexual misconduct on campus. Plus, the original language of the legislation seemed more than a bit vindictive. If that legislation had passed, students who were cleared on appeal by the commission (again, a commission led by an expelled student’s mother) could sue their former universities, the campus staff and their accusers for damages. It allowed lawyers to cross-examine sexual assault survivors about their drinking and past sexual history.

Making the law retroactive was an especially nice touch. Those conditions were later stripped.

The fact that paid guns claimed that the law was designed to protect black men -- not the son of a wealthy white lobbyist -- is just Missouri being extra. During the debate, a Democratic legislator challenged fellow lawmakers, who claimed to be awfully concerned about protecting the due process of the accused, to guarantee lawyers for students who couldn’t afford them.

Missouri Republicans essentially said “hell to the naw” on that one.

The Senate version of the bill ran into a filibuster last week from Democrats, and the legislative session is winding down in a few weeks. McIntosh and his army of lobbyists will need to shift into overdrive to make good for his son.

In hindsight, maybe buying the Harvard fencing coach’s house has a better return on investment. Harvard is investigating a possible conflict of interest in that case. Missouri Republicans pushing McIntosh’s pet project seem far less concerned about conflicts of interest.

In some circles, McIntosh may win father of the year.

When I heard that an image of an assistant principal in my child’s school had been labeled with the n-word in a student’s Instagram video, it stung. We know there’s been a spike in hate crimes and bigotry in schools over the past three years.

When it involves someone you know, it becomes personal.

I didn’t hear about the incident through any official school communication. It’s usually the grapevine that spreads this sort of news. I called school officials to ask how it was handled. But due to privacy laws, the district cannot share information about specific punishments.

I get that.

The post was taken down, I was told, and there were consequences given. I wondered why this felt insufficient. What role should schools take in combating a rising tide of bigotry that reflects what we are witnessing in society at large? How should they address issues that more often arise on social media, outside of school buildings?

First, let’s begin by calling it what it is.

In a note that went out to teachers about a racist incident that occurred over spring break, Parkway Superintendent Keith Marty described the situation as “racially charged.” Many other districts across the region that have dealt with similar issues have used this term to describe the behavior in question. I asked Marty about this choice of words.

To him, the phrase denoted the impact felt by those targeted by the behavior.

“I’m not trying to diminish it,” he said. But to me, it sounds like mincing words to avoid calling a spade a spade.

I’ve had this same difficult conversation in my own newsroom. Recently, the Associated Press offered clarity on the issue. The AP Stylebook now advises journalists not to use euphemisms for “racist,” like “racially charged” or “racially tinged.”

You can’t confront a problem until you recognize it for what it is. This is especially true when trying to educate students on how to thrive in a diverse society. It’s also important for schools to communicate with parents when hateful incidents are reported and investigated because the impact is felt by minority students collectively. A reluctance to talk publicly about these issues suggests a reluctance to admit bigotry is a serious problem.

A parent in Missouri’s Webster Groves School District shared her frustration over how anti-Semitic incidents that happened last year were handled. Yael Shomroni, who is Jewish, criticized school officials who referred to swastikas as “graffiti.” She said the stories from students who witnessed anti-Semitic or racist acts were brushed under the rug with an unwillingness to confront them publicly.

“The parents don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “It’s uncomfortable to talk about.”

The district brought in the Anti-Defamation League for training, developed lessons on hate speech and discrimination, and created groups for students to discuss issues related to equity and inclusion.

“We’ve tried to create venues and opportunities both in structured and unstructured ways,” said John Simpson, Webster Groves superintendent. “We are talking about it because we are not there yet. Like our peer districts and the rest of the world, we have a long way to go.”

But they are making a systematic effort going forward, he said. School officials in several St. Louis-area districts have committed to hearing the concerns of students sharing what they have experienced and seen.

A way to heal and reduce future such incidents is by turning that listening into action. It’s by helping the rest of the student body understand why racist and bigoted language, symbols and acts are hurtful and unacceptable.

Young people have a way of reflecting the same messages they hear at home, in the media, from politicians, in the culture.

Schools need to be braver in pushing back.