Today I returned to paid employment after 12 months maternity leave. Waking up before the alarm, I slip out of bed, leaving my two sleeping boys, and pull on a pair of pre-pregnancy 'work pants'; they look different on this body, irrevocably changed by motherhood. And not unhappily so; where yoga teaches respect for the body, pregnancy and childbirth leave me in awe.
With post-it notes on lunches for husband, baby and grandma in the fridge, and my lunch and breast pump in a bag, I say my distracted goodbyes and i'm out the door to make the train.
My head already at work, my heart forever at home.
I bounce up the stairs of Parliament station, greeted by the familiar cheer of the homeless man selling the Big Issue, his weather spiel unchanged (forecasting a scorching 62 million degrees today).
My mind is a sponge, trying to absorb the information; of conversion funnels, user experience and journey mapping. Everyone asks about my son, now almost one: "how times flies!"
Everything changes, yet everything stays the same.
But I am different.
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