Dear Rebecca.

Dear Rebecca,

I am, quite possibly, the antithesis of you.

I was nearly invisible in high school, flat chested, boyfriendless (until the very end). You were homecoming queen, large of breast and, from the sound of it, quite popular with the boys. I went to college, dutifully studied and often did what I was told just because I was told to do it. You dropped out of college, trusted your free-spirited self and never brooked authority. I am a (relatively) late-life mom and was married to CG for five years before getting pregnant, just like you're supposed to do it. You got pregnant, while unmarried, accidentally, at 23. In my 20's, I spent years in therapy trying to figure out what I actually thought and felt about ANYTHING and pursued a string of serious, monogamous relationships. In your twenties, you were/are confident in your opinions, and .... um.... busy in the boyfriend department before suddenly becoming a mom.

When I learned I was pregnant, I bought and read all the baby books, taking many of them to heart. You bought some and then threw most of them in the trash.

But ever since I found your blog, I have felt that perhaps you can speak to me so strongly because of our differences.

Perhaps, it's that there really is something universal about motherhood. Or maybe it's just the fact that you're a good writer.

And now I have just devoured your book. It is great and you are great. I am so impressed by your honesty and your courage in putting your whole self out there for the world to see.

Your grandmother's advice to "let the baby adapt to you", your insistence that your career passions render you a better mother rather than a lesser mother, your unwavering belief that you can have it all, all these inspire me greatly. The very few times I am able to shut out the voices of the parenting experts and listen to my own intuition, I think of you as my inspiration.

I can only say this: thank you.

Sincerely,

this Clueless But Hopeful Mama.