For the first eight months, I hid my pregnancy from my bosses, terrified it would spell the end of my career as a foreign correspondent. I simply didn't know any other women in the field with children.
Being based in Malaysia for the BBC at the time made it easier to keep my secret from my employers, although I did have to be careful about inhaling too much tear gas in the weekly opposition street protests. Only when I was offered a role as a roving reporter in Europe did I come clean, as by then I was no longer legally allowed to fly.
The reaction from colleagues was a little disturbing. One male journalist admitted he'd always assumed I couldn't have children because I'd left it so late (34 years). Females muttered in corridors, asking how I would manage such a demanding job and a child.
Two months after giving birth, I became BBC correspondent to Sri Lanka, which was in the midst of a vicious civil war. I'd seen my fair share of horror, poverty and bearded men with guns, but this time I found myself packing milk bottles and washable diapers as well as a flak jacket, helmet and first aid kit. It was the start of a double life as foreign correspondent and mother.
We arrived in Sri Lanka in 2000, just after the BBC's local reporter in Jaffna had been killed in a grenade attack on his home in a government-controlled town. One of my first tasks was to work out what to do about his widow, still numb with shock, and her three young children. My baby grew into a toddler while my colleague's terrified family waited to escape abroad.