Twenty-one years old, I sat holding my six-day-old baby. I realized that, quite frankly, I had made a mess of my life up to now. The only thing I had gotten right so far was convincing this wonderful man next to me that I was a catch worth keeping, and somehow got him to marry me! I was a handful as a kid—smart-mouthed and cute enough to talk my way out of most scrapes. I had walked through life about as gracefully as a bull in a china shop. Politely “released” from boarding school in 7th grade, I figured out …
