4am-ish. With my other babies I remember railing against this nightly interruption, percolating anger at interrupted sleep and promised daytime exhaustion. But these nights, this time, the night feed has been special. A time that’s just ours, almost stolen from the world. It’s snuggly and intimate. We hear the beginning of the dawn chorus most mornings (and dawn is something I’m more used to seeing from the other side, as the end of the day, not the beginning), and I’m conscious it won’t last forever. So we savour these soft hours.