Me, the heartsink patient

Going back to work was not just hard. It was ridiculously hard. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. I have never considered not working, but I wanted someone to tell me to stop. As my baby approached 4 months, my days, my waking thoughts, and all my conversation became dominated by worry about leaving her. Unsurprisingly, she cried each morning as I dropped her at the nursery in a nearby village. I usually recovered from my own drenching panic as I approached a particular cottage garden in the next village on my journey to work.

A year later I found myself in the …