Once I was gone from Today, the crisis hit. Suddenly I'd gone from "fastest rising star" to "damaged goods." It's a label you never want put on you in my business. It's a curse, a cloud that hovers over you -- frightening away anyone who might have been interested in using your services as a broadcaster.

I was a villainess, a back-stabber, a conniver and schemer. All you had to do was read the clip file on me to know that. Who's going to hire someone when the first thing the newspaper writers are going to do is a computer search that spews out a stream of negative stories?

The more I focused on this, the deeper I sank. I had a beautiful baby and a wonderful husband. But I no longer had a career. And I realized that career had meant more to me than I'd ever imagined.

I think for anyone who's gone through a crisis there comes a turning point, an epiphany, which marks the beginning of the end. Mine came when Niki was about three months old.

It had been another bad day. I never did get dressed. Never did take a shower. Probably hadn't brushed my hair. That was nothing unusual. Most days I did absolutely nothing for myself.

Juliette, our wonderful housekeeper, had made a wonderful supper. She'd set the table using the good china and my mom's silver. It was a delicious meal. It looked wonderful. And I couldn't eat a bite. I couldn't lift my fork. All I could do was cry. I sat there, my spine practically curling onto itself. My posture was as low as my image of myself.

Poor Karl. He tried to make me feel better. He reminded me of how mean so many people at NBC had been. He pointed out all those people who'd said they would call -- and never did. He reminded me of that beautiful little baby upstairs sleeping. None of it helped. I just sat there and cried. My head hung so low, it was practically in my plate.

Karl took me by the hand and led me upstairs. He said, "Go to sleep. You're exhausted -- just sleep until you wake up."

So I cried myself to sleep. And I slept. I slept for nearly twelve hours. It was the first real sleep I'd had in more than a year.

When I woke up . . . I got in the shower and . . . again I cried. But this time, it was different. I cried and hated "them" for ruining what should have been one of the most joyful times in my life. I cried for the loss of my career. I cried about everything that had happened. But through my tears, I made myself a promise: I would never let "them" have this kind of impact on my personal life again.

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