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I'm sitting in the low light of our London flat at three in the morning, holding Florence in one arm and frantically trying to keep a rogue stream of milk from finding its way into her neck creases, when I...

I was staring at my newborn son's face under the harsh, unforgiving fluorescent light of our master bathroom at three in the morning. He was exactly three weeks old. Just two days prior, he had the kind of perfect, porcelain...