So Gilbert's overblown prose may fail to move much more than my bowels. Her epiphanies, like other people's epiphanies generally, may lose their sheen in the telling. The review is shrewd enough to point all this out. But most appalling here is the bitterness of the invective spewing forth from the gnarled, overworked fingers of the commentators.

Why all the bile? Are you mad at Gilbert for not taking on children and the myriad other commitments with which you've chosen to saddle yourselves? If she were a backpacker sans book deal, would that make her story any more palatable? Beyond the fact that the world probably doesn't need yet another tale of privileged enlightenment (did a Baccarat chandelier light up in her head as she ohmed away in her cave?), there seems to be a hefty dose of plain old jealousy here.

Peeps, the choice was yours. You were the ones who bought the hype this society has spun you like so much cotton candy: mortgage, kids, enslaving makework, cradle-to-grave consumerism, lather-rinse-repeat. Gilbert certainly hasn't rejected that package wholesale - she did make sure she was nicely sorted out before leaving - but instead of focusing your remaining energies on Gilbert-hating, you should perhaps take this opportunity to see where your own life could use some tinkering.

In this country, leisure, learning and personal growth for their own sake are viewed (to a downright uncivilized degree) as frivolous. We're encouraged to be a slave to the rhythm, too busy to step back and ponder, too absorbed to recognise that most of our daily pursuits are but a distraction from the higher goals that really matter: improving our characters; nurturing our physical, spiritual and emotional health; tending our relationships; being responsible and compassionate global citizens. All these seem like add-ons that don't "get" you anything. Not for a moment do I suggest that Gilbert is anyone's sherpa to anything but savvy, au-courant personal branding. But the appearance of the book itself can open doors perhaps too long sealed in our own consciousness.

Finally, as others have pointed out: travel is more accessible than ever! It's not just for the wealthy or desperate any more, nor has it been for some time. Travel should be a rite of passage to adulthood - no! a requirement - like the draft - for Americans, woefully insular as you are. In some ways you're probably the only "civilisation" that can still afford to be. The rest of us long since lost the luxury of imagining we're the centre of the universe, and had to get off our asses and discover the world to which we belong. There's a famous statistic I read once that states that when shown the outline of a map of the USA, 75% of American high school seniors can immediately identify it. But when asked to point out the US in the context of a world map, the figure drops to under 25%. But it's all so avoidable. Just downgrade your SUVs, deny little Susie her nineteenth Build-A-Bear and avoid Starbucks for a while. You can coast for months in many countries on those savings alone.

Sorry, I'm with Cary 95% of the time - but here he stumbles on his own manhood. Have the husband be the primary caregiver, raise the kid?? Ain't gonna happen - especially not in those earliest, mommy-centric days and years. The LW knows and understands this instinctively. Cary does not, and neither, presumably, does her husband or her male OB-GYN.

It amazes me how sensible, pragmatic people can turn to runny molasses whenever the topic turns to kids. A pregnancy, a child - these quickly become more than just the awe-inspiring "miracles" Cary cloudily invokes. A kid is not a symbol, a Russian doll you pop out and place on a shelf, dust once in a while waiting for it to produce its own mini-me. It is, most of all, let's be honest, back-breaking, never-ending, manual labor. Some of that labor, biologically speaking, can only be done by the mother; much of the rest will be expected to be shouldered by her. It's in our social DNA, if not our actual DNA. This is why even the most enlightened fathers still are thought of as "helping" the mom do "her" duties. The LW seems to have been traumatised by her parenting experiences, and is rightfully ambivalent about serving another sentence.

Why does her husband want a child? The LW mentioned he'd been hedging his bets. Could he be ambivalent as well? After all, he's made it to his forties without one. I think a probing discussion is in order here, to really clarify both parties' objectives and expectations in detail. Many men become fathers only to discover they prefer the idea of a child far more than the responsibility and upheaval of actually raising one, day in, day out. Could her husband be in la-la land, counting down his good-knees years and finally embracing romantic notions of "dad", "baby" and "family" that may have had limited appeal for him in the past?

And even if your husband did find a way to eke out some breast milk, consider this: would this child grow up to resent you as the distant "helper" mom? Would s/he wonder why mommy's always backpacking in Thailand or busy with law school when the other mommies are all backstage at the school play? Would s/he feel underloved?

LW, please remember this: parenting is a CHOICE. It is never an inevitability. It is a choice like any other you make for your own life and happiness. Nobody ever has a child for the child's sake - it is ALWAYS a selfish and very personal decision, even for those who allow social pressures to decide for them. Search your heart, choose happiness and do not doubt yourself. At the end of the day, regardless of all you may wish and hope for, you are your only guaranteed companion through this life. Be true to yourself. Good luck!