Dilemmas of an unprofessional mother

I tried to focus on the woman I was talking to. I tried to pay attention to what was being said. I told myself that people do this all the time, every day, and with children that are much younger than Arch.
The doubt wriggled and niggled and squiggled.
The next people to speak were women whose sons had been murdered. The doubt screamed. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE WHEN YOUR SON NEEDS YOU?"
I was counting off the minutes to lunch time when I could check-in, hoping my friend might say he was sliding down the slide on his tummy and being a jumping bean.
"He's alright, but he's not really himself," she said. "We're doing OK."
There was only another couple of hours of conference left. I told myself to settle down and sit it out. These women were never going to be able to hold their sons again, was I really saying I couldn't last for two more hours?
I rang in again. I could hear Arch crying. (A swan had hissed at him.)
I held my breath for another 20 minutes and then I couldn't stand it any more.
I ran out, galloped down eight flights of stairs (couldn't wait for the lift), jumped into a taxi, nipped into the park and whisked Arch out of his buggy and into my arms.
Ah! That was where I had wanted to be for the past four and a half hours. We got into the taxi - together this time - and I attended the end of the conference with Arch, who was indeed a more subdued version of his usual self, wrapped around my tummy.
It was hideously unprofessional but I could pay attention at last.
Did I do the right thing by leaving him/by fetching him? Who knows?
What should we do with that tug that defies rationality? Silence it or respond to it? Should we try to find a switch inside to turn off when we do up our bra, put on our heels and click, click, click into the office? Or is it important to be conscious of that tug, even amongst the deadlines and the emails and the need to get a good job done?
I don't know the answer. I have no idea if I have got it right, or if there is even a "right" to be got. All I know is that finding good childcare, though hard enough, is the easy bit.