The birth of my second son was one of those events that people often describe as "something to tell your grandchildren about" and as my beautiful little boy turned 1 today, I thought I'd share the story with you.

I woke at 6am on 8 July 2011 to the feeling of my waters slowly trickling their way out of me. I'd just turned 37 weeks pregnant and I wondered whether to wake my husband or not, as I certainly didn't feel like I was in labour.

I can remember my husband's alarm clock going off at about 6.30am and because I only felt "funny", he suggested he travel into work as normal and come back once labour had started, if it even did.

I lost track of time then. I think it was about 7am when I phoned my mum and asked her to come down and look after my toddler, as I thought I might be in labour. I also remember telling my husband I should phone the midwives at the hospital to let them know my waters had broken and find out if they wanted to check me over.

While my husband was trying to find the right telephone number for the hospital, I can recall it becoming imperative I keep pacing. I couldn't stop or sit down/kneel/bend over onto all fours, as it was much too uncomfortable. Being upright and mobile felt right.

If I didn't know I was in labour then, I did when the first contraction hit and oh my god, the pain. I was scared, my whole body hurt in the most indescribable way and I had to focus on just getting through each contraction....until I felt the most almighty urge to push. I swore at my husband to phone 999 and while he was speaking with the operator, I could feel my baby's head entering the world swiftly followed by the rest of him.

My mum arrived shortly before the paramedics. She told me she'd expected to find it was a false alarm and the last thing she'd expected to see was me sat on the loo in the en suite bathroom holding my newborn baby in my arms. Same here!

The paramedics told us the 999 call had been placed at 7.26am and my husband guessed the time of birth as 7.30am. I actually think he was born a few minutes before this but I can't say for certain as time took on a very different quality throughout the whole affair.

Baby and I were taken to hospital and checked over. He was fine. He may have only been  5lb 15oz but my husband and I could immediately tell he was going to be a feisty little character. There was never any doubt in our minds that the boy's name we'd chosen during my pregnancy was the right one for him; Randall.

Here he is at about an hour old:

And a year later:

How time has flown.

There's much more I could write - about how the birth affected me and how I really found it having 2 children under 2 - but those are posts for another day.

All I want to say now is: Happy birthday Panda Pop! I love you more than you'll ever know xxx

There are times in your life when you meet someone, quite unexpectedly, with whom you have an immediate connection. This happened to me not long after I joined twitter when I started to exchange tweets with today's guest poster, Liz.

There aren't enough words to express the depth of my admiration for this lady. Not only is Liz warm, friendly, kind and funny but she has a wonderful attitude towards life. She's not one to be found on the sidelines watching it passing her by; she gets in there, tries things out and embraces opportunity and experiences joyfully.

Getting to know Liz has also given me the opportunity to get to know more about myself but I'm not going to talk about that right here and now because I've promised a guestpost on the subject for Liz's blog. You'll just have to keep your eyes open for that instead!

You can find Liz on twitter here and seriously, follow her!

Then go and read her beautifully written and very eclectic blog called "Margot and Barbara" here.

But before you do either of those things, have a read of this...

I am a runner.

It happened almost by accident. In 2006, I was pregnant with my first child. In the twenty-nineth week of that pregnancy, during a routine appointment, the midwife realised that I had all the signs of early onset pre-eclampsia and I was sent to the hospital. I was there for a few days, injected with steroids and told to expect an early delivery to save both of us. A couple of days later, I went home, only to end up doubled up in pain. The pre-eclampsia had got worse and I’d also got HELLP syndrome. The pain that I thought was indigestion was really my liver shutting down.

I was rushed into hospital, stabilised and then given an emergency caesarian section. My daughter was born weighing only 2lb 11oz and was rushed off into the neonatal unit before I’d even seen her. I didn’t find out until much later that they’d had to resuscitate her at birth. Thankfully, nine weeks later we were able to bring her home and she’s now a bright and beautiful five year old with no signs of the story of her dramatic arrival.

Despite going through all of this, which really was the most difficult time of our lives, we decided a couple of years later that we’d like another baby. To assess the risk of me having pre-eclampisa again, we had a meeting with a specialist consultant. His advice? There was a one in ten chance of it re-occuring and the best thing I could do to bring down my risk and lower my blood pressure was to get fit. The fastest way to get fit? Running...

The problem with running was that it initally brought out the child in me. The one who took extra German classes so that she could miss PE. The one who hated sports day. It’s not that I didn’t like to be active, I rode, ran and played outside as a child all the time. I just hated the competitive nature of PE at school, whether that was as part of a hockey team or running the 800 metres and that was what I still thought of ‘running’.

So, I struggled with the idea of running as an adult. I needed to get fit quickly, and cheaply though so really I had few options. The treadmill was quickly ruled out. I didn’t have one of my own so it would have meant joining a gym which I wasn’t going to do. I am a member of a gym now, but still haven’t got over the ridiculous progression of our lives that means we have to go to a special place to run, row and climb nowhere!

I also knew that, left to my own devices, I’d carry on with the sedentary lifestyle that had contributed to the pre-eclampsia in the first place, whatever my good intentions were. I needed a running partner. Someone to encourage me to start, and to keep on going. Someone with a vested interest in keeping me fit and healthy. My husband.

We started running together each week. When I say running, I really mean jogging a few steps, keeling over with breathlessness, walking a bit, running a few more steps, and so on. Over the following weeks, I was running a little more, walking a little less and feeling better than I’d done for years. Yes, it was painful. Yes, I was slow. And yes, I spent a lot of time lagging behind my already-fit husband cursing in his direction as he reminded me of the good it was doing me; the most maddening thing I could ever be told.

Apart from knowing that he was right, and that I was working for a healthy pregnancy, I kept going because I had muscles in my thighs that I never knew existed and I was surprising myself by enjoying it. It worked too - in May 2009 I gave birth to a healthy baby boy after a normal pregnancy, with my blood pressure only going up during the birth. I even managed to run a 5k race in the early stages of my pregnancy before my anxiety about keeping the baby safe made me give up running until after he was born.

We ran, and still do run, off road. This has made a huge difference to me, because it appeals to that child who spent her time outdoors. I run through the woods and along bridle-paths. In the Spring, there are bluebells scenting the air and keeping me going. In the Autumn I run through crunchy piles of leaves, kicking them in the air as I go. In the Winter, I skate like Bambi over frozen puddles or sink in the snow. Always, I run through or jump over puddles. It is fun. I’m not the fastest of runners, I know that I’m slow, but it doesn’t matter.

These days, with two small children and a full time job, I have less time to run. My knees are creaky and my feet are often sore. But when I have the time, I run.

I have run. I do run. I will run.

I am a runner.