Edition No. 5: How Voice Notes Became My Motherhood Archive

For the days when motherhood is too much to write about - and too precious to forget.

I don’t journal every day.
I don’t keep a baby book (although I fully intended to).
But I do talk to myself……

Most nights, some time after the toys are picked up and the house is quiet, I open the voice memo app on my phone and press record. Just a few minutes. Nothing polished. Just breath, and truth, and presence.

I usually begin with the same two questions:
What felt hard today?
And what made it feel worth it?

I know “what felt hard” might sound negative - but I’ve found the opposite to be true. Giving language to the difficulty softens it. When I say it out loud, the weight of the day doesn’t stick to me the same way. And when I follow it with “what made it worth it,” I almost always find something tender hiding in plain sight: a giggle during diaper changes. A tiny hand on my cheek. The funny thing that one of my boys said that day (Shiloh just learned how to say “hold me” and it melts me, truly). The stillness of a room after a never-ending bedtime routine (yes, one more sip of water is necessary, mom).

Voice notes have become my therapy.
My prayer.
My record of the real and the holy.

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💡A little science here: Studies in psychology have found that expressive writing (or speaking) helps regulate emotions and increases resilience. According to research published in the Journal of Research in Personality, processing emotionally significant experiences (even for just a few minutes a day) can boost clarity, lower stress, and help people make sense of their lives. And while most studies center around writing, the act of speaking your story engages the same areas of the brain - especially when done consistently and with compassion.

For me, these voice notes feel like little campfires. Places where I sit with myself and with God. Places where I’m not performing or pretending. Places where I’m allowed to be tired and messy and grateful all at once.

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Some nights, my recordings are mostly deep breaths and whispered prayers.
Other nights, they’re full of stories I never want to forget.
Sometimes, I surprise myself with a kind of knowing that didn’t exist until I heard it spoken aloud.

And slowly, these tiny, ordinary voice memos have turned into something sacred:
A motherhood archive.
A lifeline.
A living conversation between who I am, and who I’m becoming.

If you want to try it:
You don’t need a fancy prompt. Just start here:
What felt hard today? What made it worth it?
Or…
What do I want to remember from today?
Where did I feel God today?
What would I say to myself if I were my own best friend?

Even 60 seconds can shift your whole relationship to the day.

Fun Fact: Many of the voice notes I recorded during my first year of motherhood eventually became the foundation for my book, The Mother Year.
They were never meant to be a book. Just small, honest moments. But they captured something I didn’t want to lose: the rawness, the beauty, the transformation of becoming a mother. And in hindsight, listening back to those voicenotes, there was a lot of wisdom and a lot of discernment, even though it didn’t feel that way in the moment. Whether you revisit them tomorrow or ten years from now, you’ll be grateful you paused to press record.

Let me know if you try it!

Sending you a beautiful weekend, friends.

Xoxo,

Chelsey

If you're in the thick of it too - or just want to feel a little more seen - you can find The Mother Year wherever books are sold. It’s for anyone who wants to be held in the gooey, gorgeous mess of early motherhood.