It's 12.05am on July 25th. This time 13 years ago, a Sunday, I was in labour with my second and last child. It was a funny labour - my usual 5 minute contractions, right from the start at 6pm the evening before, but for the first few hours I felt no pain. Twelve hours later I was wishing it had stayed that way.

At 2am I got out of bed, stoked the fire and sat in the lounge listening to the radio and attempting to concentrate on a book whilst timing each contraction - and David slept the sleep of the non-gestational, upstairs. Heather had already gone to her grandparents' for the night, just in case. There I stayed until 4am when I decided I'd had enough clock-watching and a midwife could take over, so I went upstairs and woke David, who sleepily made himself some breakfast while I got the car out of the garage, loaded all my bags and checked we hadn't forgotten anything. On coming in from the cold, clear and frosty midwinter night with a waxing gibbous moon (just thought I'd chuck that in there, I looked it up), David said "so, are you ready to go then or what?" to which I remember rather pissily replying "do you think you could just wait a minute while this bloody contraction finishes?".

Cold, pain and lazy breakfast-eating bastards always did tend to piss me off a bit.

Thus, off we went to the maternity annexe to add this new little person to the family. Nine hours later, at just after 1pm, my doctor Nick (who'd had time to go to church and come back whilst I laboured) guided this new individual into the world - Adam was born.

Today he is thirteen - not just "double digits" anymore but a teenager to boot (and what boots they are, his feet are getting huge!); capable, compassionate, considerate and an all round "good bloke" in the making, with just enough of his father in him to remind me that no, my baby wasn't swapped at birth. In fact, I didn't need that proof; he is so like me in some ways, it's scary.

Poor bastard.

Mondays child is fair of face,
Tuesdays child is full of grace,
Wednesdays child is full of woe,
Thursdays child has far to go,
Fridays child is loving and giving,
Saturdays child works hard for his living,
And the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.

And this Sabbath-child usually is.

Happy Birthday Baby, I love you.