FIVE hours after his wife, Merissa, had given birth, Eric sat in her hospital room holding—and intermittently smelling—his sleeping, swaddled, as-yet-unnamed son. As Merissa dozed, Eric realised two things with a profound certainty that brought tears to his eyes (although, turns out, he’d be wrong about one of them): 1. For the first time in his life—a life in which his every decision was analysed, agonised over and qualified in every way—he knew the meaning, the feeling, of unconditional love; 2. His son, his beautiful, perfect son, would be named Randy, after his grandfather.