The Royal Baby: At Last!

I'm not exactly a massive follower of the Royal Family but I must confess I got quite excited when I heard that Kate was going to be giving birth at the 'Lindor Wing'. My eight year old soon set me straight; apparently it's the 'Lindo Wing' which is much more prosaic and a lot less chocolatey.
So, no name yet, but Kate and William are the proud parents of a baby boy and so the toughest job ever, that of being parents begins for them.
I have to admit that I was a fairly poor parent in the early days of my son's life, but then I was dragged down by post natal depression, the most awful, cruellest of afflictions. A brief moment of being serious (see it as a public health broadcast). If you think you are suffering from PND please, please seek help now. Tell a friend, phone your GP, get in touch with your health visitor (she'll be the one called 'Pam' or possibly 'Carol') but just tell someone.
So, those early weeks pass by in a complete blur induced by a heady combination of hormones, fatigue and an overwhelming feeling of responsibility. I had a baby who wouldn't sleep or feed properly and who never stopped crying. It didn't help that my nephew, born just a couple of months previously appeared to be the model baby. (I know my sister-in-law will be reading this and I'm sure she'll disagree!). The very well-meaning Health Visitor would say to me "You need to relax. He can sense you're tense and that makes him worse". Well thanks for that hugely helpful piece of advice but how am I meant to relax when I feel like sh*t?
Exhaustion can do very strange things to you. Don't forget they use sleep deprivation as a form of torture. A friend of mine was woken in the night by her tiny daughter needing a feed. In the half darkness she reached across to the cot, picked up her little bundle and put her to her breast. After a few moments her husband murmured "The baby's still crying". She looked down and realised that she was trying to suckle a cuddly toy hippo.
The weeks and months pass and eventually you get to that magical day. Baby's first smile? The tell-tale white dot which heralds the arrival of the first tooth? The first time junior eats 'solids' (what a ridiculous name for the slop which is baby porridge). No... your first solid eight hours sleep. You gradually become human again, begin to be a bit less anxious (the pills helped with that!) and get to the point with dummies and feeding implements where you think 'If it hasn't been dropped down the toilet then it's sterile'.
At that point most people decide it's time to start on the whole process all over again but my self-preservation gene kicked in big time at that point and does so every time I find myself feeling a bit broody!