I was delighted to hear that your baby had arrived. Like me, you have had a little boy. And, like me, you have defied your critics. By all accounts the birth last Wednesday — by elective caesarean — went smoothly and you and little JJ are safe. Well done for breastfeeding.

I want to wish you all happiness with your child. How I remember that first moment when you set eyes on the baby you long for. My son Riccardo will celebrate his 12th birthday on July 18, and I wish you could see what a good-looking and clever boy he is. The other day he brought me his school report which is so good I’d like to put it up on the wall.

To be frank, I have to say that if I were in your shoes I wouldn’t have tried to have a child at your age. You already have three children by your first marriage and I believe that generally mothers are beautiful because they are young.

You might think it’s strange for me to say that. But the only reason I had a child by IVF when I was 62 — the same as you now — was that my first son, also called Riccardo, died in a scooter accident when he was 17.

I was so happy with big Riccardo; I did so many things with him. We’d go to the sea or to the swimming pool together all the time. I drove him around everywhere. He’d be 32 this year.

I was very fragile after he died. I lived at the cemetery more than in my home. I had the keys to the cemetery and went there day and night. I thought of suicide; I thought of throwing myself from my terrace onto the road below in front of a lorry.

I went round all the orphanages with my then husband Mauro, who is a farmer, but they all refused to give me a child. They told me that at my age I should be a grandmother, not a mother. But I knew I was healthy enough and strong enough to have a child. Like you, it was meeting the gynaecologist Severino Antinori in Rome that changed everything. He’s a second father to me.

I read that your husband John said becoming parents at your age was a bit terrifying. You mustn’t worry about anything. I think the most beautiful thing that can happen to anyone is seeing their baby for the first time.

I cried and cried when I saw little Riccardo. Before that, every extra day the pregnancy lasted was a joy for me. I’d been through seven attempts and one miscarriage. Of course the last day I was worried about the birth: given my age there was a risk he might not be in the best of health.

I refused amniocentesis because there was too high a risk that the jab would kill him. The doctors had killed off one baby in my womb before.

I saw your picture in the newspaper. You look happy and strong. I am sure you will have a healthy and happy child. People say we’re too old at our age to take care of a baby, but I never felt tired. I’d never had any diseases and I knew I was healthy and strong enough to have a baby.

You’re probably worried about the attacks people have made and will make in future. I expect you will go through the same things I went through. I was completely unprepared for them.

When Riccardo was born I received lots of critical letters; they were hateful and disgusting. People said I was selfish and immoral, that I was tampering with nature. The Vatican said the birth was an affront to God.

Don’t listen to these people; just turn your back on them.

If someone says something nasty to you on the phone, just hang up. That person isn’t even worth talking to.

The people who criticise mothers of our age don’t know what the love of a baby means. It’s not as if you’re killing a child; what you’re doing is giving life to one.

I’m sure you will find support and comfort in your family and friends. I found it in the village where I live. It’s a small place of just 5,000 people called Canino, north of Rome. When the villagers found out about little Riccardo they were all wonderful. Everyone realised how much I had suffered and they were all delighted at the happiness he brought me.

Whatever the Vatican said about me having a child at my age, the village priest, Don Lucio, was right behind me. When strangers criticised me in front of him, he told them they didn’t know what I had been through. He said I had done the right thing. And when I brought Riccardo to see the local bishop, he told me I had done well to bring a new baby into the world.

Having little Riccardo made me become a very strong lady. I no longer feared anyone, I could answer back to anyone who criticised me. There was this actress on a television chat show; she accused me of being a publicity seeker. I saw red and the channel had to stop the programme. That actress later asked me to forgive her, like several people who attacked me. Things are much better now.

I’ve received lots of letters, beautiful ones, from people who say I did the right thing. When I go to Rome, people recognise me in the street and sometimes they come up and kiss me.

And whatever people say, there will always be your child for you to love. At your age you don’t need to work any more, so make sure you never lose sight of your child.

I have kept a close eye on little Riccardo. I go to see his teachers at school every two weeks because I want to know how things are going. When he goes out to play football in the evening I often go to see what he’s up to. Sometimes he asks me what I’m doing there; I just tell him I’m out for a walk.

I have no regrets, but I do have one fear: that something might happen to me and I end up leaving him alone. I have already arranged that he would be brought up by my cousin Nelli, who is a wonderful person and has a lovely family. But children need their mother to grow, like wheat needs the sun. If there was no sun, the wheat wouldn’t grow.

I haven’t yet told little Riccardo how special his birth was; I’ll tell him when he’s a teenager. Once, when he was seven, he asked me why I was old when his friend Filippo had a mother who was much younger. I told him I was young when I had big Riccardo but that, after he died, I died a little bit day after day. Then God said that was enough crying and he sent an angel to bring you to me, I said to him.

The sadness of losing my first Riccardo has never left me. I still go to the cemetery every day. I have two sons – one is alive and one is dead.

Wishing you the very best,

Rosanna