Ten years ago today, I had just returned from China on an assignment for the UK government, attracting investors to British technology companies.
It was an intense, sprawling job and I arrived home on Saturday afternoon exhausted only to start a new job on Monday at Virgin Money.
I knew if I could get through Monday and have an early night, I’d be fine.
But life had other plans.
At 2am, my seven-month-pregnant wife woke me to say she'd been having some pain and had ordered a taxi to go to hospital.
"No, I'll take you," I said.
"Who will look after Fin?" - our one-year-old son sleeping next door.
"Good point." I was so tired I'd completely forgotten we had another son.
She set off and I went back to sleep with the phone ringer set to loud, hoping it would be a false alarm and all would be okay.
All was not okay.
Thirty-five minutes later my wife called in tears.
"I'm in active labour. He's going to be premature."
"I'm coming. Don't worry. We'll get through this."
I had no idea what we were going to do, but it's what you say, isn't it.
I was tired, jet-lagged and I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
I called my brother, who came over almost immediately to look after Fin, leaving a message for my mum to come down as soon as possible and then writing to my new boss of one day - one of the most senior people in the bank:
"Anth. My sincere apologies. My wife has gone into labour two months premature. I'll be out for the next few days and will call you when I know what's going on. Dan.”
That's probably my job over, I thought. One day in banking and I'm already gone, but that really didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.
It was 3am. I have never driven faster in my life as I did to the hospital.
My wife was in agony. The doctors had already given her injections to slow the labour so they could prepare the baby for arrival.
They took us to one side to explain what we were facing. A baby born at 31 weeks carries real risks. The lungs may not be developed enough to breathe independently. The brain may not get the oxygen it needs, which can cause lasting brain damage.
The lighter the baby, the higher the danger. Premature babies are also more vulnerable to infection, problems regulating their own temperature and to bleeding in the brain.
The doctors wanted Lisa to stay in labour for as long as possible to buy time for the steroid injections to strengthen his lungs. No food or water for my wife and nil by mouth.
The baby was also breech, which meant he hadn't turned and a C-section was inevitable. It was quite a different couple of days to what I'd expected.
Somewhere in the middle of those 48 hours, a message came through from Anth.
"No problem. Come back when you're ready. I hope everything goes ok."
It was only a few words, but Anth won my loyalty for life with that message.
Two days after it had all kicked off, after watching my wife in agony, cramping, screaming and fighting all the negative thoughts, we were finally allowed into the operating theatre.
I have never felt so useless. As a man, you can do so little. Cheering from the sidelines feels such a weak gesture and you cannot lend your physical strength.
It was hard to hold back on the gravity of the situation but somehow we managed to tell a few jokes and smile. We were obviously terrified.
Within what seemed like hours but was actually minutes, the doctor on the other side of the screen had made the incision and pulled the baby out.
They took him over to the scales. There was no sound. My Christ, is he dead? It was the longest moment of my life. I started to panic and feel intense pain.
And then I heard a little cat meow.
Oh thank God. I wanted to cry. He was alive, but had he been damaged?
The doctors cleaned up the baby and ran their checks. They fixed my wife and we were sent out to another room while the baby boy was tested.
The doctor came out twenty minutes later.
"He's fine. In fact he's three pounds. A little brute, to be honest. If he'd gone full term, he'd have been big."
My wife is 5ft 2 inches tall...
Jamie had entered the world in chaos.
He went through a number of tests and every one came back fine, but he needed to spend a few more weeks baking in the incubator.
And it was time for my wife to rest.
We had a few rough moments during that time: jaundice being one, but the hospital was incredible - and a few weeks later, we brought home the tiny pudding.
There are times in life when money, business and career really do need to be put in their place. And this was one of them.
Today is Jamie's tenth birthday. From the moment he arrived he has put the fear of God in me, but what a decade he has given us too.
Happy birthday, Jamie.
Love, Dad xx