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She gave me another piece of information which excited other feelings in me, scarcely less dreadful. Infants were sometimes born in the convent; but they were always baptized and immediately strangled!

My daughter Stacia was born when I was 31, after I was divorced from David, and she was my gift to myself. She was just a joy because I didn't have the stress of a male irritating me, and I vowed that I would make absolutely certain that between her and me there would be a clear line of communication at all times.

I have a little baby. She knows who I am. My friends know. My family knows.

Being an only child, my mother reared me very carefully.

When you have little children, you want to tell them about joy and happiness and hope. And then comes the time you want to tell them there are tough moments. I admire people who can do that.

My mother, Yolanda, was a little girl who never grew up, and sometimes we would laugh, and I would say things like, 'Okay, so now it looks like I am your mother and you are my daughter,' to which she would reply, 'Well, yes. Handle it and pamper me.'

For months, my parents had been trying to prepare me for the arrival of a real sibling. They had given me a doll to play with and encouraged me to take care of her. And when the baby, a little boy they named Rahm, finally arrived, they encouraged me to help take care of him, too.

My baby is the joy in my life.

Success took me to her bosom like a maternal boa constrictor.

The first moment I saw my wife breastfeed our daughter minutes after birth, I was hit with a thunderbolt of understanding and awe for the miracle of it all, and I still feel that way.