Building in the Fog: A Love Letter to the (messy) Middle

There’s this thing people say about building a startup — that it’s like jumping off a cliff and building the plane on the way down.

Cute.

But what they don’t tell you is that sometimes you’re also holding a crying baby in one arm, your Slack notifications are piling up in the other, and you’re Googling things like “what does a product manager actually do” in the middle of a 2 a.m. feed.

Right now, I’m in the fog.

Not the thrilling early days of “we’re launching something new!”
Not the winning phase of traction and growth and funding headlines.
Just... the in-between.

The part where I’m building something that matters — but most days, it feels like no one sees it but me.
The part where I second-guess every decision because there’s no one telling me if I’m doing it right.
The part where I’m both CEO and customer support, visionary and very tired mother of three.

The Grind Isn’t Glamorous

Here’s what a day might look like right now:

• Baby wakes up at 3:17am. I rock her half-asleep and whisper reassuring nonsense while thinking about onboarding bugs.

• Back in bed at 4:12am. Brain won't shut off. Should I rewrite the homepage copy? Is the Smart Share flow confusing?

• Up again by 7. The middle child needs help finding socks. The oldest is graduating from high school today. I'm somewhere between proud and undone.

• Somewhere mid-morning, I open my laptop and stare blankly at Notion. There’s a roadmap, but my brain can’t read it. Too many tabs, not enough clarity.

• I text a contractor for an update. I Slack my devs. I reread an old email draft and hate it.

• I check Mixpanel stats and feel... nothing. Not discouraged. Not excited. Just… numb. No new visitors or profiles -noted.

No one tells you how quiet the grind is. How long the “middle” can stretch. How you’ll wonder if you're stuck or just in the part where it hasn't clicked yet.

I Thought I’d Be Farther Along By Now

That’s the part that stings the most, honestly.

It’s not just the tiredness or the context-switching or the financial stress or the cognitive overload.
It’s the quiet, nagging thought: “I thought I’d be farther by now.”

I’ve built big things. I’ve led teams. I’ve done hard things before.

But this?

Building something new, while postpartum, while mothering, while bootstrapping, while constantly doubting and believing in the same breath?

This is a whole new level.

There’s no applause.
No external validation.
Just me — nudging this vision forward, one imperfect day at a time.

Why I'm Writing This Down

Because I want to remember this.

Not just the launch or the wins or the polished pitch decks — but the real, messy, foggy middle.
I want to remember what it felt like to keep going when it didn’t feel shiny.
To build without a map.
To trust the thing that only made sense in my gut.

And maybe — if you’re here too, building something slowly, without much help, maybe doubting yourself a little more than usual — maybe you’ll read this and feel a little less alone.

We don’t talk enough about this part.
The middle. The fog. The days where the work is mostly invisible and the belief is all you’ve got.

If that’s where you are, I hope you keep going.
Even if today is just sending one email. Or asking one question. Or writing one messy blog post.

Even if no one’s watching.
Even if no one claps.
Even if you have no idea what you’re doing next.

Sometimes building means trusting that this season — this slow, quiet, uncertain, undercaffeinated season — is part of it too.

You’re not behind.
You’re just building in the fog.

Me too.

— a