When the Deal Does Not Care That You Are a Mother: Motherhood and the Banking Calendar
Investment banking’s deal calendar was built on an assumption of unencumbered availability: no school pickup, no pediatric appointments, no child with a fever at 6 a.m. Mothers working inside that structure aren’t facing a scheduling problem. They’re facing a structural mismatch that produces a specific, chronic psychological strain. This article names that strain, explains the guilt architecture underneath it, and covers what actually helps, without suggesting every working mother experiences it identically.
- Muted in a Hospital Hallway
- What This Strain Is Actually Called
- The Guilt Architecture
- Both/And: Two Whole Lives, One Calendar
- The Systemic Lens: The Industry Was Never Built for This
- What This Does to Your Nervous System Over Time
- In My Clinical Experience
- Where to Start When the Calendar Doesn’t Care
- Frequently Asked Questions
Muted in a Hospital Hallway
It’s a Tuesday afternoon at 2:47 p.m. She’s in a hospital corridor, her back against the pale green wall outside a procedure room where her child is having a minor surgery. Her phone is in her hand because it has to be. The MD is calling. She knew it was coming. She steps a few feet further from the door, answers, and then presses mute because her child’s name was just called by a nurse and something in her throat closes. She unmutes. “Sorry, I had you on mute, bad signal,” she says, calmly. Her voice doesn’t shake. She’s trained it not to.
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That moment is what this article is about. Not the logistics of it. The psychology of it, and the specific structural mismatch that produces it.
Before going further, a boundary worth stating plainly: this article describes a pattern that shows up for some mothers working inside investment banking’s specific deal structure. It isn’t a claim that every working mother experiences motherhood this way, and it isn’t a claim about what any individual woman should decide about her career or her family. It’s a description of a mechanism, so you can tell whether it fits what you’re carrying.
What This Strain Is Actually Called
The clinical term for what’s being described here is interrole conflict, a specific form of role conflict in which the demands of two roles are genuinely, structurally incompatible, not merely inconvenient to schedule around each other. Jeffrey H. Greenhaus, PhD, and Nicholas J. Beutell, PhD, defined it in their foundational 1985 paper as existing when participation in one role is made more difficult specifically because of participation in another, whether through time demands, strain, or incompatible behavioral expectations (Academy of Management Review, 1985). It isn’t the same as being busy. It’s the experience of a system requiring full presence in two places, or two states of full availability, at exactly the same moment, with no resolution that doesn’t cost something real.
A form of psychological strain that occurs when the behavioral demands, time requirements, or identity expectations of two roles are mutually incompatible. Research on the broader construct of work-family conflict links it to higher psychological distress and reduced wellbeing. It is categorically distinct from ordinary busyness or schedule crowding.
In plain terms: The deal doesn’t pause for the fever. The pediatric ward doesn’t reschedule for the closing. Your nervous system registers this as an unresolvable bind, not just an inconvenience, and it responds accordingly, every time.
Think of it through the House of Life™ framework I use clinically. Professional identity lives on one floor of that house. Identity as a mother lives on another. A well-built house distributes weight between floors; the structure holds. Investment banking’s deal calendar doesn’t recognize that the floor below exists. It keeps loading the upper floor as though nothing is underneath it, and what registers at 2:47 p.m. on a Tuesday is the creaking of beams that were never designed to bear this particular weight.
At the Tuesday-afternoon level, this looks like real-time triage: calculating not just which task is urgent, but which identity is about to be let down, and which version of the self will absorb the longer-term cost of today’s choice. That calculation happens repeatedly across a week. It’s exhausting in a way that’s genuinely hard to describe to someone who hasn’t lived inside it.
The Guilt Architecture
Guilt shows up so consistently in this population that it’s worth being precise about where it comes from, because not all guilt here is the same kind, and treating it as uniform makes it harder to work with clinically.
A 2022 study across two samples found that mothers’ work-family guilt was significantly predicted by their own internalized gender stereotypes, in a pattern that didn’t hold for fathers: the more strongly a mother implicitly associated women with family responsibility, the more guilt and work-family conflict she reported on days she worked long hours (Lianne Aarntzen, PhD, and colleagues, British Journal of Social Psychology, 2023, PMID: 36097879). The same study found the inverse pattern in fathers: the stronger a father’s implicit gender-career stereotype, the less guilt he reported in an identical work-interferes-with-family scenario. This matters because it locates part of the guilt in something structural and internalized, not simply in a woman’s individual temperament or how much she loves her child.
A separate line of research on working mothers of young children found that mothers reporting higher parenting stress, combined with high job strain, showed measurably higher morning cortisol and steeper cortisol-awakening responses on workdays compared to non-workdays, while parenting stress alone, without the added job strain, did not produce the same pattern (Leah C. Hibel, PhD, and colleagues, Journal of Family Psychology, 2012, PMID: 22866929). The strain isn’t purely psychological. It shows up in the body’s stress physiology specifically when the two role demands compound each other, which is exactly the structure of a deal calendar layered on top of caregiving.
Not all of the guilt in this picture is the same kind, and distinguishing between them matters. Appropriate guilt is proportionate, specific, and actionable. It tells you something real about a moment where you had a genuine choice and chose in a way that didn’t align with your values. Chronic, diffuse guilt that doesn’t clear even when you’re doing the best anyone could do in your situation is a different animal, and it’s usually a signal that self-worth has become contingent on performance in a domain where the structural conditions make consistent performance impossible.
There’s a particular version of this guilt worth naming on its own, because it doesn’t show up as guilt about a specific missed moment. It shows up as a low, constant hum underneath everything else, present even on days when nothing goes wrong, when the pickup happens on time and the call ends early and the child seems perfectly content. Women describe it as a background static rather than a sharp pang. That version is rarely about any single decision. It’s closer to an ambient tax levied by living inside two identities that the surrounding structure insists are separable, when they aren’t. Naming that distinction, between guilt tied to an actual choice and guilt that’s simply the weather inside a structurally impossible position, is often the first real relief a woman gets in this work, because it stops her from hunting for the specific failure that would explain a feeling that was never actually about a specific failure at all.
Both/And: Two Whole Lives, One Calendar
Here’s what matters clinically: both identities are real. Both are non-negotiable. Both carry legitimate claims on time, body, attention, and sense of self. The problem isn’t trying to hold both. The problem is that one of the structures being operated inside treats the other as if it doesn’t exist.
Banking culture, and deal culture specifically, was built on what sociologist Arlie Hochschild called the “ideal worker” model: a professional whose availability to the firm is total, uninterrupted, and unconstrained by caregiving obligations. That model was built by and for workers who had someone else absorbing the caregiving load at home. For decades, that worker was almost always a man whose wife was doing the invisible labor of keeping the household running. The calendar itself is an artifact of that assumption.
“Addiction begins when a woman loses her handmade and meaningful life and becomes fixated upon retrieving anything that resembles it in any way she can.”
Clarissa Pinkola Estés, PhD, Jungian psychoanalyst, in Women Who Run With the Wolves
The both/and truth is this: a serious, capable, deeply committed professional and a mother whose child’s needs are real, urgent, and non-negotiable, at the same time, in the same person. The industry’s inability to hold that both/and isn’t proof that the two identities are actually incompatible. It’s proof the industry’s architecture is incomplete. Those are not the same claim, and knowing the difference matters more than it might seem.
Camille is 41. She came to me at a moment of acute decision: she’d been offered a promotion that would take her deal involvement to a level she knew, in her body, she couldn’t sustain alongside her daughter, who was seven and had been asking to spend more time with her for two years. The cultural layer was specific and real: in her family of origin, professional ambition was the way you honored everything your parents had sacrificed to get you here. Pulling back from the promotion felt, to Camille, not just like a career decision but like a betrayal of a lineage. The clinical work involved untangling what she actually wanted from what she’d inherited as the definition of worth, and helping her build enough internal ground to decide from her own values rather than accumulated obligation.
The detail I remember most from our work together: she described sitting at her daughter’s school play, phone face-down on her lap, physically restraining herself from flipping it over. “I was there,” she said, “but I wasn’t there. I was in two places, and neither place got the real version of me.” That’s interrole conflict in its most precise form. Presence divided at the root.
(Camille is a composite drawn from patterns across many clients. Details have been changed to protect confidentiality.)
The Systemic Lens: The Industry Was Never Built for This
Investment banking’s deal calendar is organized around client-service imperatives that are genuinely urgent and often genuinely unpredictable. A deal doesn’t close on a schedule that respects school pickup. A financing round doesn’t wait because a child has a 103-degree fever. An M&A process doesn’t pause for a pediatric appointment. This isn’t malice. It’s the internal logic of a system designed with a specific kind of worker in mind, one without primary caregiving responsibilities.
The unencumbered-availability assumption is baked into the architecture at every level: staffing models, travel expectations, communication norms, the expectation of responsiveness at 11 p.m., a culture of physical presence as a signal of commitment. None of this was designed to be hostile to mothers specifically. It was designed without mothers in mind, which produces a different but equally real form of structural exclusion.
Jeffrey H. Greenhaus and Nicholas J. Beutell’s original work-family conflict research also found that role pressures intensify specifically when the roles involved are highly salient to a person’s identity and when there are strong negative consequences for noncompliance with either role’s demands (Academy of Management Review, 1985). Both conditions are unusually present here: motherhood and a demanding banking career are both typically central to identity, and the professional consequences for stepping back from deal availability, along with the personal consequences of stepping back from a child’s needs, are both real and significant. That combination, high salience plus high stakes on both sides, is precisely what makes this version of role conflict feel heavier than an ordinary scheduling headache.
This dynamic is closely related to, but distinct from, the strain the deal calendar places on a marriage or partnership, which is its own significant clinical picture covered in my piece on the investment banking marriage. That article focuses on what unpredictable deal timing does to a partnership specifically. This one stays focused on the mother-child relationship and the internal identity fracture, which is a related but separate wound with its own mechanism.
What This Does to Your Nervous System Over Time
Chronic interrole conflict isn’t just a scheduling headache. It’s a sustained physiological event. When caught between two non-negotiable demands with no resolution available, the nervous system registers that as a threat. Not metaphorically. The hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis, the body’s central stress-response system, activates. Cortisol rises. When that activation happens repeatedly, over months and years, without adequate recovery, the system shows the kind of wear researchers call allostatic load.
The cumulative physiological cost of chronic stress adaptation. When the body’s stress-response systems activate frequently and recovery is insufficient, measurable wear accumulates across cardiovascular, immune, metabolic, and neurological systems. Allostatic load is not the same as acute stress. It’s the residue of stress that doesn’t fully clear before the next activation.
In plain terms: Every call taken from a hospital hallway, every deal comment answered during carpool pickup, every 5 a.m. calculation about whether the school concert is possible, deposits something small but real into an account your body keeps. Over years, that account gets heavy. The fatigue isn’t weakness. It’s a ledger.
Bruce S. McEwen, PhD, of Rockefeller University showed in his 2017 review that sustained stress exposure doesn’t just feel bad; it produces structural changes in brain regions governing emotional regulation, decision-making, and the capacity for rest (Chronic Stress, PMID: 28856337). In sessions with women navigating exactly this kind of chronic role collision, I see these effects directly: difficulty turning off the professional monitoring function even at home, hypervigilance that follows into the evening, leisure that starts to feel like a performance of rest rather than rest itself.
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At the Tuesday-afternoon level, it feels like bone-tired in a way sleep doesn’t fully touch. Irritability with a child in moments she desperately doesn’t want to be irritable. Efficiency at the office paired with an odd hollowness inside it. Doing everything required and having none of it feel like enough. That’s not a personal failing. It’s a nervous system carrying load without sufficient recovery for longer than it was built to sustain.
What makes this particular form of allostatic load difficult to address is that the two demands don’t take turns. In most chronic-stress research, recovery windows exist even inside a hard season: a weekend, an evening, a slower month. The structural bind described in this article often removes exactly those windows, because the moments meant to be recovery time from work, an evening at home, a weekend with the kids, are also the moments carrying the highest emotional stakes of the caregiving role. There’s rarely a genuinely low-demand hour in either domain, which is part of why the fatigue described here often doesn’t respond to the interventions that work for ordinary overwork: a vacation, a lighter week, a delegated task. The body isn’t just tired from doing a lot. It’s tired from never getting a true all-clear signal from either role, which is a different physiological problem with a different solution.
There’s also a specific pattern I see in how this load shows up in the body over years rather than weeks. Early on, most women describe episodic symptoms tied to specific collisions: a headache the day of a school concert she had to miss, a stomach knot before a call she knew would run through pickup time. Over time, without intervention, the symptom picture tends to flatten into something more constant and less obviously connected to any single trigger: a baseline tension headache that’s simply always mildly present, a sleep pattern that never fully deepens even on nights with no professional or parenting demand, a persistent sense of being one step behind her own exhaustion rather than responding to it in real time. That shift, from episodic to chronic, from situational to baseline, is itself diagnostic. It tells me the nervous system has stopped treating the mismatch as a series of discrete events and started treating it as the permanent operating environment, which changes both the clinical picture and the treatment approach.
This also shows up in the body in ways that are easy to misattribute to something else entirely. Women in this population frequently describe gastrointestinal symptoms that appeared or worsened during their most demanding banking years, changes in appetite that track uncannily with deal cycles rather than with hunger, and a specific kind of fatigue that doesn’t lift with sleep because it was never primarily about sleep debt to begin with. It’s the fatigue of a system that has been asked to be fully present in two irreconcilable places for years without a genuine reprieve in either. Naming that mechanism, rather than treating each symptom as its own isolated medical mystery, is often the first step toward a treatment approach that actually addresses the source rather than managing the downstream noise.
In My Clinical Experience
I want to bring one more woman into this article, because composite clinical pictures tell truths abstractions can’t.
Nadia is 44. She’s been in banking for eighteen years and is a managing director. She had her first child at thirty-six and her second at thirty-nine, and she describes her experience of motherhood and banking not as a balance problem but as what she calls “a constant low-grade sense of wrongness, like a note that’s always slightly off-key.” When she came to work with me, she wasn’t in acute crisis. She was in the kind of chronic strain that doesn’t announce itself dramatically: sleeping five hours a night and calling it fine, snapping at her kids and feeling flooded with shame about it, carrying a persistent sense that she was performing both roles rather than living either of them.
What Nadia needed first wasn’t strategies. It was language. She needed someone to name that what she was experiencing had a clinical name, that the name pointed to a structural problem rather than a personal one, and that her exhaustion was a reasonable response to unreasonable conditions, not evidence of insufficient resilience. When that landed for her, something visibly shifted in her posture in session. She exhaled in a way that looked like the first time in a long while.
(Nadia is a composite drawn from patterns across many clients. Details have been changed to protect confidentiality.)
Both women in this article arrived at very different decisions, one stepping back from a promotion, one continuing at the managing-director level with a clearer internal architecture for carrying it. Neither decision was more correct than the other. The clinical work in both cases was the same: helping each woman locate the problem accurately, in the structural mismatch between two systems that weren’t designed to coexist, rather than inside herself, so that whatever she decided next came from her own values instead of from unexamined guilt or inherited obligation. I want to be direct that this article does not carry a position on whether any woman should stay in banking, step back, delay having children, or make any other specific life decision. That decision belongs to you, informed by your own values, your own financial reality, and, where relevant, honest conversation with your own physician and partner. What clinical work can offer is clearer sight of the actual structure you’re deciding inside, not a verdict on the decision itself.
It’s also worth naming a related but separate consideration that comes up often in this population: the interaction between deal-calendar timing and the biological realities of fertility and midlife for women who are trying to decide when, or whether, to have a first or second child while still on an intensive deal track. Where fertility declines with age, and where the window for certain family-building decisions is genuinely time-limited, that’s a medical reality, not a psychological one, and it deserves a conversation with a reproductive endocrinologist or your own physician rather than anything resolved through this article. What clinical work can address is the anxiety, grief, or decision paralysis that can accumulate around that timeline when it collides with an unpredictable deal calendar, and help you separate the medical facts, which belong with a doctor, from the identity and worth questions that often get tangled up with them, which is where therapy is actually useful.
Where to Start When the Calendar Doesn’t Care
I want to be honest about what’s being offered here and what isn’t. This isn’t a five-step system for managing a deal schedule alongside a caregiving calendar. Those tactical questions matter, but in clinical experience, they’re almost never the real bottleneck. The real bottleneck is internal: the identity fracture, the self-worth contingency, the chronic nervous system activation, the silenced distress. Solve the logistics without touching the internal layer and the result is often just becoming more efficient at carrying the same impossible load.
First: name it accurately, out loud, to yourself. Not “I’m stressed” or “I’m tired.” Something more precise: “I’m experiencing a structural mismatch between two non-negotiable roles, and I’ve been absorbing the friction of that mismatch privately for a long time.” Accurate naming shifts the psychological locus of the problem from inside you to between you and the system. That shift has downstream effects on everything else.
Second: get curious about the self-worth contingency specifically. Ask honestly: when imagining a week where deal demands genuinely prevented availability for your child, where does the shame land? Is it about the child’s experience, or also about what it means about you as a professional? When the inverse happens, leaving the office for a pediatric appointment while someone covers for you, where does the wound land? Both answers carry information about how entangled self-worth has become with performance in both domains.
Third: locate where the physical toll has been landing in the body. Not as an abstract inventory, but specifically. The tension in your shoulders the moment the phone lights up. The shallow breathing that becomes default during a close. The way your jaw holds when you walk back into the house after a fourteen-hour day. The body keeps the score on this kind of chronic strain, and it’s worth reading what it’s been keeping.
Fourth: consider whether you’re navigating this alone, and whether that’s working. The isolation that comes with silencing this kind of distress inside a professional culture that doesn’t name it is itself a compounding injury. Talking with someone who understands both the clinical layer and the specific structural reality of this professional world isn’t a luxury or a sign of struggling more than other people. It’s the kind of support that makes clear thinking possible.
Fifth: build, deliberately, a small number of load-bearing relationships that know the whole picture, not the edited version. Many of the women I work with have become skilled at presenting a curated account of their lives in each domain: the composed professional at the office, the present, unhurried mother at home, with almost nobody who sees both halves at once and can hold the full weight of what it costs to run them simultaneously. That curation is protective in the short term and isolating in the long term. It doesn’t have to be a large circle. Often it’s one colleague who has lived a version of the same structural bind, one friend outside banking entirely who can offer perspective without judgment, and a therapist who understands the industry well enough not to need the context re-explained every session. The relief isn’t in finding someone who fixes the calendar. It’s in no longer being the only person who knows the true shape of what you’re carrying.
None of these five steps resolves the deal calendar’s indifference to a child’s fever, and no clinical framework pretends it can. What they can do is change your relationship to the mismatch: less private shame, more accurate naming, a body that gets occasional genuine recovery instead of none, and at least one person who understands both floors of the house you’re holding up. That’s not a small thing. For most of the women I’ve worked with in this exact position, it’s the difference between surviving the structure and building an actual life inside it.
If working with me one-on-one through executive coaching is something you want to explore, that’s exactly the kind of work I do with women navigating this intersection. You can also learn more about what working with me looks like before reaching out, or explore individual therapy if the deeper identity and nervous-system work feels like the more central need right now. If the strain you’re carrying is landing more in your marriage or partnership than in the mother-child relationship specifically, this piece on the investment banking marriage may be the more precise fit. If what you recognize in yourself is less about banking specifically and more about carrying the disproportionate share of invisible household and caregiving labor generally, my piece on the second shift covers that broader pattern, and if what you’re carrying feels closer to being the parent who’s on call every hour regardless of who’s technically covering, my piece on the default parent may be the more precise fit. And if the identity strain you’re carrying is less about an existing child and more about the decision of whether to have one at all inside a career like this, that anticipatory version of the same structural bind is real too, and my piece on the postpartum transition may be useful context for what the other side of that decision can look like.
And if you’re somewhere in a decision space you haven’t resolved yet, trying to figure out whether a sustainable path forward even exists before committing to one, that’s a conversation worth having too. The connect page is the place to start, or you can get a sense of where you currently sit in relation to these patterns with the free quiz on my site. My Strong and Stable Substack goes deep on this kind of structural-plus-psychological analysis every week, if you want to think it through further first.
Warmly, Annie
Q: Is what I’m experiencing as a mother in banking actually different from what any working mother experiences, or am I making it worse than it is?
A: It’s different in specific ways that matter clinically. The deal calendar’s unpredictability and genuine, non-negotiable urgency creates a form of interrole conflict that’s structurally more extreme than what most professional roles produce. The closing that can’t be moved, the presentation that lands at 9 p.m. the night before a birthday, the roadshow that overlaps with a pediatric procedure, these aren’t theoretical conflicts. They’re real structural collisions that happen with high frequency. You’re not catastrophizing. You’re accurately perceiving a specific kind of structural pressure distinct in degree and character from most other demanding professions.
Q: I feel guilty constantly, but I can’t tell if the guilt is appropriate or if something else is going on. How do I know the difference?
A: Appropriate guilt is proportionate, specific, and actionable: it tells you something real about a specific moment where you had a genuine choice and chose in a way that didn’t align with your values. Chronic, diffuse guilt that doesn’t clear even when you’re doing the best anyone could do in your situation is usually a signal that self-worth has become contingent on performance in a domain where the structural conditions make consistent performance impossible. That second kind of guilt doesn’t need to be acted on. It needs to be examined.
Q: My partner thinks I’m overcomplicating this and that I just need better systems. How do I explain what I’m actually experiencing?
A: The experience you’re trying to describe isn’t primarily a systems problem. It’s an identity problem: the chronic experience of being structurally required to set aside one genuine part of yourself to honor another. Better systems reduce friction at the margins, but they can’t resolve a structural mismatch that operates at the level of organizational design. One frame that sometimes helps a partner understand: imagine being required to be physically present in two different locations simultaneously, with serious professional and relational consequences for whichever one you’re not in.
Q: Does this article apply if I’m considering having children but haven’t yet, or if I’ve decided not to?
A: The structural mismatch described here is most acute for mothers already navigating both roles, but many women in banking describe an anticipatory version of the same bind while weighing whether or when to have children, including realistic considerations about age, fertility, and career timing where those factors genuinely apply to their situation. This article doesn’t offer fertility or medical guidance, and if timing or fertility questions are part of what you’re weighing, that conversation belongs with your physician or a reproductive specialist, not a blog post. What clinical work can offer is help distinguishing the real structural constraints from the anxieties layered on top of them.
Q: Should I just leave banking if this is how I feel?
A: That’s not a question this article can answer for you, and I’d be doing you a disservice pretending otherwise. It’s a genuinely personal decision that depends on your finances, your values, your specific role, and what you actually want your life to look like. Some women I’ve worked with have stayed and built a sustainable internal architecture for carrying the strain. Others have left and don’t regret it. Both are legitimate outcomes of good clinical work. What matters is that the decision comes from clear values rather than unexamined guilt.
Q: Is this something therapy can actually help with, or is it just a real structural problem that no amount of therapy will fix?
A: Both things are true, and naming that plainly matters. Therapy cannot change the deal calendar or the industry’s staffing model; that’s a real, external structural problem, and no clinical work pretends otherwise. What therapy can change is the internal architecture: the guilt that’s disproportionate to the actual choice made, the self-worth contingency that turns every hard moment into an identity crisis, and the chronic nervous-system activation that makes the whole experience feel unsurvivable rather than simply very hard. That’s meaningful, real change, even though it doesn’t touch the calendar itself.
Related Reading
- Greenhaus, Jeffrey H., and Nicholas J. Beutell. “Sources of Conflict Between Work and Family Roles.” Academy of Management Review 10, no. 1 (1985): 76-88.
- Aarntzen, Lianne, Belle Derks, Elianne van Steenbergen, and Tanja van der Lippe. “When Work-Family Guilt Becomes a Women’s Issue: Internalized Gender Stereotypes Predict High Guilt in Working Mothers but Low Guilt in Working Fathers.” British Journal of Social Psychology 62, no. 1 (2023): 12-29. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/36097879/
- Hibel, Leah C., Evelyn Mercado, and Jill M. Trumbell. “Parenting Stressors and Morning Cortisol in a Sample of Working Mothers.” Journal of Family Psychology 26, no. 5 (2012): 738-746. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22866929/
- McEwen, Bruce S. “Neurobiological and Systemic Effects of Chronic Stress.” Chronic Stress 1 (2017). https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/28856337/
- Wright, Annie. “The Investment Banking Marriage: When the Deal Flow Never Stops and Your Relationship Pays the Price.” Annie Wright, LMFT. https://anniewright.com/the-investment-banking-marriage-when-the-deal-flow-never-stops-and-your-rel/
Warmly,
Annie
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