Seven Years in the Fog: Motherhood, Depression, and Finding My Way Back

Before there was a business, there was a mother wondering how she was going to do this alone again.

The hardest part of my pregnancy with my daughter was realizing that I was going to do motherhood alone for the second time.

And again, it wasn’t by choice.

I was carrying another human being while thinking about the world I was bringing her into. A world that can be unforgiving. A world where I already felt the odds were against my children before they had the chance to discover who they were.

I knew there was love waiting for her in me. But I had wanted her beginning to include two parents whose love she could feel through their presence, care, and consistency.

Facing a different reality hurt.

I was becoming a single mother again, responsible for showing my children that love, kindness, caring, consideration, and nurturing really do exist—even if, in the beginning, those lessons were coming mostly from me.

And this time, I was having a girl.

That brought a particular fear I struggled to put into words: What would her father’s presence—or absence—teach her about men? Would she come to see them as “providers at their convenience”? Would she learn to expect care only when someone felt like giving it?

Those were my fears. They are not a script for her future. But during that pregnancy, they weighed heavily on me.

I wanted her to know a love she wouldn’t have to question. I wanted both of my children to experience being cared for without having to wonder when that care would show up again.

And I was trying to figure out how much of that I could provide alone.

The weight I was carrying

That pregnancy brought a depression unlike anything I had experienced before.

There was the reality of doing this again. There was the disappointment of what I had hoped motherhood would look like. And there was the responsibility of loving my children while trying to find my own way through feelings I could barely untangle.

It has taken me seven years to come out of that fog.

I need to say that plainly, because seven years is a long time. And because someone reading this may be wondering why she hasn’t found her way back to herself as quickly as she thought she should.

I don’t have a neat timeline to offer. I have my experience.

Coming out of the fog has meant learning that staying afloat is a lifestyle. My well-being needs ongoing attention. I’m still a mother. Life still asks things of me. But the woman doing all that caring needs care, too.

Building while I was still becoming

In spring 2022, I became an entrepreneur.

My experience with depression was part of what prompted that decision. I started with beauty products, beginning a business journey while I was still finding my way through my personal one.

There is so much more to tell about that beginning—the hopes, the attempts, and the days when I’ve felt like the odds were against me.

I’m still living that story.

As I look back, I’m learning to understand my tests and trials through faith and gratitude. I’m making room for what they have taught me while acknowledging what they have cost me.

That is where this blog begins: with the mother who was afraid, the woman who went through depression, and the entrepreneur who started building anyway.

All of them are me.

And all of them deserve a voice here.

Have you ever grieved the support you thought you would have while still showing up for the people who needed you?

Pull up a seat. There’s room for that truth at Karma’s Table.

Love,
Karma Marie