Reseda L. Cox, MBA

In 2020, during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, I welcomed my son into the world.

Like most new mothers, I expected the sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, and the steep learning curve that comes with caring for a newborn. What I didn't expect was the emotional battle that would follow.

As a single mother navigating motherhood during a global shutdown, I often felt isolated and overwhelmed. The world felt uncertain, support systems were limited, and the pressure of trying to hold everything together became heavier each day.

What began as sadness gradually became something much deeper.

Eventually, I was diagnosed with severe postpartum depression.

From the outside, it appeared that I was managing just fine. I continued showing up as a healthcare leader, making decisions, leading teams, and handling responsibilities. But behind closed doors, I was exhausted, disconnected, and struggling to recognize the woman staring back at me in the mirror.

Maternal Mental Health Challenges Are Far More Common Than Many People Realize

Nearly 80% of women experience some form of maternal mental health disorder within the first year after childbirth, including postpartum depression, anxiety, OCD, and mood disorders. Yet despite how common these struggles are, many women suffer in silence.

I know because I was one of them.

When I received my diagnosis, medication was presented as one option. For personal reasons, I chose a different path. I knew I needed to find something that would help me shift my focus, reconnect with myself, and create a new narrative for the chapter I was living.

I wasn't trying to become someone different.

I was trying to find my way back to myself.

What Happened Next Was Completely Unexpected

Like many moms, I found joy in dressing my son. At first, it was simply a fun distraction. But over time, those small moments became something much more meaningful.

I became fascinated with baby fashion...particularly contemporary styles, creamy neutrals, earthy tones, and timeless pieces that felt elevated, modern, and intentional.

Each outfit became a creative outlet.

Each carefully chosen piece gave me something positive to focus on.

And each moment spent creating looks for my son brought a little bit of light into a season that often felt dark.

Looking back now, I realize I wasn't just dressing my baby.

I was healing.

That Idea Became Baby Panache

What started as a simple hobby slowly evolved into a passion. As my love for curating baby outfits grew, so did an idea.

What if other parents were searching for the same modern, sophisticated aesthetic?

What if I could create a collection that reflected the style I loved while sharing the inspiration that had helped me through one of the most difficult periods of my life?

Born during maternity leave and inspired by my journey through postpartum depression, Baby Panache was created for parents who appreciate contemporary, modern, and beautifully curated baby essentials.

More importantly, it became a reminder that purpose can emerge from pain.

The collection gave me something to build, something to dream about, and something to pour my energy into during a time when I desperately needed hope. What began as a personal outlet transformed into a business, a creative passion, and a meaningful part of my healing journey.

Today, I still find joy in carefully selecting pieces and sharing them with families who appreciate timeless style. Every collection tells a story, and for me, that story will always be about resilience.

Postpartum Depression Taught Me Lessons I Never Expected to Learn

It taught me that strength isn't always about pushing through. Sometimes strength is having the courage to admit you're struggling.

It taught me that healing is rarely linear. There were good days, difficult days, and everything in between. Each one played a role in my recovery.

It taught me that motherhood doesn't require us to lose ourselves. Instead, it often reveals parts of ourselves we never knew existed.

Most importantly, it taught me that purpose often appears in the most unexpected places.

Sometimes it grows from heartbreak.

Sometimes it emerges from adversity.

And sometimes it begins with something as simple as dressing your baby.

To the Mother Reading This

To the mother reading this who may be struggling with postpartum depression, anxiety, or feelings of overwhelm, I want you to know this:

You are not failing.

You are not weak.

And you are not alone.

Give yourself grace.

Ask for support when you need it.

And don't underestimate the healing power of finding something that brings you joy.

For me, that joy became Baby Panache.

For you, it may be something entirely different.

But sometimes the very thing that helps you survive a difficult season becomes the foundation for something beautiful.

My story began with postpartum depression.

But it didn't end there.

It became a story of healing, resilience, motherhood, and purpose.

And for that, I am grateful.

About the Author

About the Author

Reseda Cox is a healthcare executive, business strategist, entrepreneur, and mother of two. As a Healthcare Executive , she leads high-performing teams dedicated to helping patients and families navigate end-of-life care. Inspired by her personal experience with postpartum depression, she founded Baby Panache, a curated baby collection featuring contemporary, modern, and timeless styles for today's parents. While the brand is currently on hiatus as she continues to grow her healthcare leadership career, its mission remains rooted in the belief that some of life's greatest passions are born from its most challenging seasons.

I’m writing this for the woman who is holding it together on the outside while quietly falling apart on the inside. The one who still shows up, still leads, still smiles, even when she’s being targeted by the very people she trusted. The one who second-guesses emails she never would have questioned before. The one who rehearses conversations in the shower, replays meetings at 2 a.m., and wonders how she went from thriving to simply surviving.

I see you. And I need you to hear this: you were not built to be broken.

When Being Good at Your Job Made You a Target

I didn’t see it coming. It rarely announces itself.

I entered my role with confidence, experience, and a genuine commitment to making a difference. I asked questions. I challenged inefficiencies. I advocated for better. I believed, because I had always been told, that these were the marks of strong leadership.

What I didn’t know was that I had stepped into an environment where those exact qualities would make me a target.

The shift was subtle at first—almost polite.

My direct communication became “too aggressive.” My drive for excellence became “too ambitious.” My willingness to challenge ineffective processes became “resistance.” No matter how much I adjusted, the narrative never changed. I softened. I became more cautious. I worked harder to accommodate everyone around me.

And somehow, I was still the problem.

The Slow Erosion Nobody Warns You About

Confidence doesn’t disappear overnight. That’s what makes this so dangerous.

It happens slowly. Quietly. One dismissed idea, one excluded meeting, one rewritten narrative at a time, until you find yourself replaying conversations long after they’ve ended, analyzing emails before you send them, and second-guessing decisions you once made without hesitation.

Without realizing it, I was shrinking myself just to survive.

The effects didn’t stay at work. They followed me home. Weekends became recovery time. Sleep became elusive. The woman who had once walked into rooms with certainty was now measuring her worth through the opinions of people who needed her to stay uncertain.

But the most painful part? I had started believing them.

That realization broke something in me—and it also, eventually, set me free.

The Question That Changed Everything

My turning point didn’t come with fanfare. It came with a quiet, radical question:

What if the environment is the problem, not me?

That single shift in perspective changed everything.

I began to see the patterns clearly. The criticism wasn’t constructive; it was controlling. The expectations weren’t unclear; they were intentionally shifting. The culture wasn’t broken—it was working exactly as designed, to keep certain people small, uncertain, and compliant.

Once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it.

I stopped internalizing every negative message. I stopped trying to earn approval from people who had already decided who I was. I started trusting my instincts again. And slowly—powerfully—I started coming back to myself.

What Targeting Actually Reveals

Here is what I know now that I wish I had known then:

Healthy leaders are not threatened by strong women. They don’t silence different perspectives or diminish others to elevate themselves. They build environments where talented people can challenge, contribute, and grow.

Toxic cultures do the opposite—and they are most threatened by the women who care deeply, think independently, and refuse to compromise their values.

They targeted me because of what I carried, not because of what I lacked.

Sister, the same is true for you.

Rising: And What It Really Looks Like

Today, I can see it clearly: the qualities that made me a target were never my weaknesses. My resilience wasn’t a flaw. My voice wasn’t a problem. My ambition wasn’t something to apologize for.

They were—and still are—my greatest strengths.

This experience taught me that you can survive toxic environments without losing yourself permanently. You can rebuild what was taken. You can reclaim your voice, your confidence, your sense of self, and emerge not just intact, but expanded.

I did. And my greatest achievement wasn’t enduring the targeting.

It was rising above it.

A Word Before I Let You Go

If you’ve been made to question your worth because of how you’ve been treated, I need you to hear this:

The confident, capable woman you were before the criticism? She still exists. The leader who trusted her instincts is still there. She didn’t disappear. She’s just been waiting—underneath survival mode, underneath the second-guessing, underneath the weight of other people’s insecurity—for you to remember her.

You can find your way back. I promise you that.

Choose environments that value your authenticity. Choose leadership that challenges you to expand, not shrink. And trust yourself again—fully and without apology.

Because the right environment will never ask you to become less in order to belong. It will call forward the more that was always already in you.

Lead with grit. Lead with grace. And never let anyone else’s insecurity convince you that your strength is something to hide.

You were not built to be broken, sister. You were built for rising.

“The right environment will never ask you to become less in order to belong.”

“If you know that feeling… this is for you.”

“And if someone in your life needs these words today… please send it to her. She’s waiting for it. 🤍”

You Know Her

You have sat next to her in a meeting where your idea landed quietly and professionally, only to watch her repeat it later—louder—and receive the applause.

You delivered results while she delivered a performance about delivering results. Somehow, by the end of the quarter, management knew her name and called it dedication.

She is not more talented than you. She is simply more strategic about being seen. In a workplace that often mistakes volume for value, that difference can become everything.

This is the colleague who turned her own insecurity into a survival skill. She cannot outperform you, so she outmaneuvers you—through noise, through access, and through the slow, passive art of making your contributions feel as though they belong to the whole room, to no one at all, or, most devastatingly, to her.

She does not challenge your leadership openly or attack your work directly. She diminishes it quietly through omission, indifference, and silence wrapped in a smile.

She talks over you without ever raising her voice. She celebrates the team in ways that somehow always circle back to herself. She reframes your boundaries as attitude and her own burnout as passion. Half the room begins to believe that whoever looks the most exhausted must also be doing the most important work.

The toll this takes is real, and it is often invisible.

You begin to question your performance. You start taking on extra tasks and responsibilities to prove yourself. You stay late—not because there is more to do, but because leaving on time has been quietly branded as a lack of commitment or urgency.

She engineered that perception.

Gradually.

Intentionally.

Without ever saying your name out loud.

So here is what matters: her loudness was never your silence. Her visibility was never your invisibility—unless you choose to hand it over.

Start treating your contributions the way a lawyer treats evidence. Document what you built, what you fixed, and what never became a crisis because you handled it before it could.

Name your work.

Take credit for it in the room before someone else does.

Make your results so specific and so consistent that no amount of performance from anyone else can drown them out.

You do not need to be louder.

You need to be undeniable—on your own terms and in your own voice.

The "master of illusions" only holds power in a room that never looks closely. Your job is to make people look closely at you.

Not through drama.

Through documentation.

Through outcomes.

Through results.

Through the steady, grounded confidence of a woman who knows exactly what she does and what she contributes because she keeps receipts.

Your Excellence Is Not Up for Debate

Not because she stayed until 11:00 p.m. sending emails and staging urgency for an audience.

Not because she was always the first or loudest voice in the room.

Not because of her performances.

Own the fact that you were doing the actual work.

Work like that does not disappear—it accumulates.

Take the credit.

"A master of illusions only survives as long as no one turns on the lights.

Be the light."

— Reseda L. Cox

Lead unapologetically.

Rise through adversity.

Execute relentlessly.

Empower others along the way.

#WomenInLeadership #WorkplaceReality #OwnYourValue #QuietExcellence #ProfessionalWomen #BoundariesAtWork