I came back to my home town to be surrounded by family and friends - including those at The Examiner.

Returning to the arms of the paper that August, after flouncing out as a 23-year-old five years earlier (and swearing I would never go back to a newsroom) was a welcome embrace.

I didn't realise how much I had relaxed being home again, until I discovered on Show Day I was seven weeks' pregnant with our long-awaited first child.

Seven months later, I was heading off on my first 12 months' maternity leave.

Fast forward three years and I've just started my second round of maternity leave, ahead of the impending birth of my second son, due at the end of October.

This time around, I'm far more relaxed about it.

The transition from working two days a week to being a stay-at-home mum won't be such a shock as going from full-time to staying home.

Last time, I finished work six weeks prior to my due date in order to achieve those millions of things on the list that HAD to be done.

After a week I'd done them all, and spent the next five weeks - and then another four days - chewing my nails in nervous anticipation of the big day.

Or wailing about why our son didn't want to meet us.

This time, finishing just four weeks out will buy me up to eight days at home by myself, when my three-year-old is at daycare.

While I certainly have a few things to do, this time the list includes things that I know will be almost impossible with two small people: having my hair done, getting a pedicure, sleeping.

This pregnancy I've enjoyed watching the weeks whizz by, knowing that sooner or later the time will come - without any naivete about what having a newborn entails.

I'm also not so desperate to hold the baby that I can't enjoy the last few weeks with my "only" child.

We've been doing all the things with him that having a newborn make a bit tricky - weekends away, going out for (early) dinner, taking him to the cinema.

We may also have over-invested in him toy-wise, out of a misplaced sense of guilt about the imminent (and permanent) disruption to his world.

Second time around I feel like people have been a bit kinder about the way I look.

Perhaps they learnt the hard way last time! No one has asked me "Are you sure you aren't having twins?" or told me I look "a bit puffy".

It's also been perfectly acceptable (and quite good fun) to share birth stories, maternity bra sizes, and toddler tantrums with colleagues who are also parents.

And, in a year's time, once my household is back in perfect working order (ha, ha), I will return to a newspaper with a new editor and general manager, and probably plenty of other staff changes further down the line.

In some ways it will feel like starting over; and in others, a bit like coming home all over again.