'When they raced out at 4:30pm, I felt annoyed.' The misconceptions I had about working parents.

This photo was taken at Sydney Children's Hospital at 10pm on my first week after parental leave. I'm still in my work clothes and my eyes are puffy from crying. This was the first of seven separate illnesses we have dealt with in just 11 weeks.

Gastro (round 1). Hand, food and mouth disease. Rhinovirus. Gastro (round 2). Conjunctivitis. Gastro (round 3). Bronchiolitis.

Yep, that's the first few months of daycare for you. A tortuous, immune-system building orientation process that will have you questioning your will to live.

Watch: Madeleine West gives tips for working mums. Story continues below.

Becoming a working parent has been the most humbling experience of my life. Before I had my daughter Poppy, I'm ashamed to say I wasn't particularly empathetic to the parents (let's be honest, mums) I worked with.

When they raced out the door at 4.30pm, I felt a bit annoyed. Why did I have to stay later when they got to leave? I had no clue that from the moment they left; they were simply starting their shift at another, more gruelling (unpaid) job.

I didn't think about the fact that when they went to bed that night, there was no guarantee of sleep. Or that they would have an entire day before they even arrived at the office.

I had no idea about the dread they felt every time they had to send (another) apologetic message to their boss, or the fact that they would still have to pay for a full day of daycare, even though their kid was too sick to go.

I didn't know how desperately they just wanted to be at work, sickness-free, putting their minds to use and making an impact.

And I certainly did not know about the seventh circle of hell that is caring for a sick child while having gastro yourself, and then having to work the next day. A form of torture I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

Boy, do I know this stuff now.

A few months ago, when I envisioned returning to work, I thought about how hard it would be to be away from my daughter. I worried about how difficult it might be fitting back into my old role (and... clothes). I agonised over the commute and routine, calculating exact timings to get us out the door with military precision.

But I really needn’t have worried about any of these things. Miss my daughter? I’m the one holding her upright at night while she coughs her guts up, then looking after her the next day (missing work and paying daycare while I do so). Commute? Thanks to three rounds of gastro, the only commute I’ve worried about is the fastest route to the bathroom. And the routine? Well, I can barely type the word without laughing.

As a historically diligent, punctual and dedicated (okay, perfectionist) employee, this experience has deeply humbled me. Before, I never once dropped a ball. Now I’m juggling several, repeatedly dropping them all in the (guilt-filled) process.

Image: Supplied.

Let the record show, I’ve got it good. I’ve got a supportive partner who has also taken time off. I only have one child and she does not have a disability. My work isn’t casual, so I still get paid if I can’t make it in. We have family support. So many mums can’t tick everything off this list. Plus, I’m doing this at a point in history where flexibility and working from home are expectations, not benefits.

Even with all of those privileges, it ain’t easy.

I decided to share my puffy-eyed hospital selfie on LinkedIn to give a shout out to my supportive company, Talent, where everyone has been incredibly understanding of my newfound... irregular availability.

My post about sickness quickly went viral (how ironic) and I was blown away by the comments. Hundreds of messages of support, from people who had been there and understood exactly what we were going through.

Previously, when I had mentioned our plague-filled daycare orientation blues to people who hadn’t been through it, I was disappointed by what they said. "Can you get a nanny?" (More expensive, no government subsidy). "How about an au pair?" (We live in a two-bedroom apartment. Not sure if it’s legal to house an au pair in a tent). "Maybe you should change daycares?" (Ah yes, a magical germ-free daycare).

None of these comments were helpful. All I wanted to hear was, "Hang in there, it will get better."

The comments I received on the post said just that, from people all over the world.

More than a few comments also addressed something I had suspected since going back. Although working parents may be less available than before, they make up for it tenfold with efficiency and enthusiasm.

On the days where I have miraculously made it in, I am like a competition winner. Just totally beside myself with happiness. I make the most of every second, like a mature-age student desperately trying to maximise their studies while surrounded by apathetic youngsters.

Things that once frustrated or stressed me out? A total pleasure. The worst day I ever had at work now seems as relaxing as a deep-tissue massage when compared to the depths of sleep deprivation and caring for a sick child. Mindless chit chat about the weekend? No time for that! There’s work to be done and a precious girl who needs me straight after. Procrastination? I wrote this article in between dinner and bath time.

Listen to This Glorious Mess. On this episode, Leigh and Tegan have brought along their favourite bits and bobs that have been useful/helpful/time and energy-saving that might help you too. Post continues below.

Oh, and that commute I mentioned? Well, I never thought the 7.38am train to Town Hall would feel like a luxury European holiday, but there you go.

Perhaps all of this is why my boss Ian made me a deal.

A few weeks ago I had called him tearfully, as we battled illness number seven. "I’m just so sick of sending you the, 'I’m sorry I can’t come in' messages," I sighed.

"Okay, I’ll make you a deal," he responded. "You don’t have to send them anymore. Just come in when you can." Cue the exhaustion tears...

Yep, he’s one of the good ones.

But he’s also smart. He knows that providing flexibility is an investment that pays dividends. He gets that daycare bugs are common, but good employees are rare. And he knows that offering me unconditional support during these thunderstorms means I go above and beyond when the sun comes out.

Despite the tremendous progress we’ve made, an alarming number of women are still leaving the workforce. A Harvard study found 37 per cent of women leave the workforce at some point, a number that rises to 43 per cent for women with children. Based on my first few months of this chaos, I can understand why.

But perhaps if more of us shared our stories of what it’s really like, there would be more Ians in the world. More empathetic versions of my child-free former self. More understanding. More support. More mums able to "put their minds to use and make an impact."

If you’re reading this in the depths of your own plague-filled return to work journey, please know: You’re not alone. It’s hard. You’re doing a great job. It gets better.

And, when you actually get to do it: enjoy every bloody second of that commute.

Chloe O’Toole is the Head of Marketing for Talent, and founder of Matching Meals.

Feature Image: Supplied