Make the Memories, Keep the Story: Why This Podcast Exists
If your camera roll is overflowing but you rarely look back, this episode is for you. I’m Maddie from Love, Maddily, and in Episode 1 I’m sharing why this podcast exists, what I tried (private Instagram + Chatbooks), and the shift toward keeping what matters—without living behind a screen.
Key takeaways
Memory keeping can start to feel like pressure after becoming a mom
Documenting isn’t the same as remembering
What worked for a season (private IG + Chatbooks) and why I’m evolving my system
Why “less” can actually preserve more meaning over time
Try this
Create a phone album called “Keep What Matters” and add 10 photos you’d want from this last year (2025) if your phone disappeared tomorrow. Add an iPhone caption (one sentence) to turn a photo into a story.
Think about: If I could only keep 12 moments from this year—one per month—what would I choose?
Twelve sounds small on purpose: over time, those few detailed memories become a powerful family story archive.
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Hey—welcome to Postcards for Posterity: Make the memories. Keep the story.
I’m Maddie, and this show is for moms—and anyone who takes the pictures and holds the stories in their families—but doesn’t want to miss their life while trying to document it.
Today is our very first episode, and I want to tell you the story behind this podcast because if you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by your camera roll, guilty that you’re not printing photos, or like you’re watching your life more than living it… I’m making this for you.
By the end of this episode, I want you to feel two things:
relieved—“oh, it’s not just me,” and
clear—with one small step you can take this week that doesn’t require a fancy system or spending any money.
Let’s go.
I’ve always been a memory keeper. I was the co-editor-in-chief of my yearbook in high school, I made travel blogs, and I loved little projects that make everyday life feel more meaningful because you can see it later. I’ve always loved documenting things—not just to look back, but to know that they’re there.
Growing up, my mom and I would scrapbook together. It was a bonding experience and really fun. I loved to experience a trip, get the pictures printed, put them into a book, write little stories, and use those cute 3D stickers. I made scrapbooks for my friends, and I made mixed CDs.
I think part of it was that I was so worried I would forget one day because life always moved so fast. And maybe I didn’t want to be forgotten either. It felt like evidence of all these memories we shared together—moments that cemented relationships and contributed to my life experience. It was also a way to show gratitude for those relationships and memories.
There’s a huge positive part of it that I’m obsessed with.
And then I became a mom… and something shifted.
It wasn’t just, “this is cute, I want to remember it.” I felt this sense of responsibility—like if I didn’t record it, I was going to lose it forever. She wasn’t going to remember, and I needed to remember everything.
If you’re listening and you know that feeling… it’s not logical. It’s emotional. It’s love mixed with time moving too fast. I know these moments are going to slip away, and I might not remember being nap-trapped and all those tiny feelings.
So my phone was always nearby.
I got into this habit of constantly documenting everything—it became the default. Tiny moment? Grab the phone. Funny new word? Write it down. Sweet little look? Every expression—document it.
And on one hand, I’m grateful. I truly have thousands of photos and videos. Before I became a mom, people would say, “You’ll never regret how many photos or videos you take,” so I was like… I’m doing a great job.
On the other hand, I started to feel like I was becoming an observer in my own life. I was remembering things through the photos and videos more than my own memory—outsourcing memories to my phone. I was collecting proof that it was happening instead of just letting it happen.
And what makes it worse for me is I rarely go back and look at any of it because there’s so much. I literally have over 20,000 photos and videos in my phone. My camera roll became this giant storage container where I kept throwing things. Every once in a while I’d open the door and be like—nope. Too much.
Maybe I’d see one photo and think, “Oh, that was so sweet,” but overall it was: “I’ll look at this later.”
I knew I couldn’t keep building more storage closets.
At that point I had tried a few things and started to realize what was working and what wasn’t.
The first thing I tried was a private Instagram. In theory it seemed really good: I could post something with a caption, so there’s context to that memory. I would have a story folder for each month and year, then upload videos with the date and descriptions sometimes.
If you’re sitting there thinking, “That is a lot of work”… it was. I did it for two and a half years. I stopped at the beginning of this year.
I wasn’t just posting. I would take the photos, mark my favorites (not delete the others), edit them, post, add a caption—all of it.
In a way it helped. It connected family members and close friends. It was chronological. Especially with videos—where do you put videos these days? It almost felt like a little journal.
Then there’s a company called Chatbooks. It can connect to Instagram and pull posts from Instagram into a book. I thought: “This is great. I make the post and it just connects.”
But because I’m a control freak, I was also cultivating and editing all these Instagram posts to make sure there weren’t typos, that it was consistent, moving things around—it took a lot of work.
At a certain point, it started feeling like I owed other people this information. I’m working full-time, trying to keep up with life, cultivate friendships, be a wife and a mom… this felt like a lot.
Even when I cut down on the editing and posted more directly, I started asking: what is the outcome of this?
Because I don’t want my daughter to have to access Instagram to view these videos. I also started stepping away from social media and realizing the benefits of that. I didn’t love the idea of putting our memories on a platform I don’t control. They could change their terms and conditions anytime. Even though it was private, it still wasn’t mine.
So then I transitioned to the monthly Chatbooks subscription, where you select 60 photos. In my mind it still feels a little crazy that I have 60 photos from a month, but also… it’s not that many photos nowadays.
It gave me a rhythm. It gave me something tangible. It was “good enough.” It still didn’t solve the video piece, but that’s another story.
But then I asked: is this the most meaningful version of our story—or is it just the easiest way to get something printed?
And is it something she’s going to be able to take with her?
If I keep doing monthly books, by the time she’s 10 that’s 120 books. As much as I want to show how much I love her by giving her all these books… is that really going to be meaningful and clear about which stories were most impactful?
Because memory keeping isn’t just about output. It’s about meaning.
Here’s the pivot I’m making—and this is the heart of this whole podcast:
We don’t need to save everything to save what matters.
I’m learning this in real time as I go through different systems and get more discerning about where I’m putting my time and energy.
A system only works if it works in your real life—not your imaginary life.
When she turned one, I remember having a Friday off and I sacrificed a day to spend with her so I could create her one-year book—first haircut, first whatever, a summary of her first year. It was really nice to have Instagram to look back at for accuracy… but the amount of time it took to record everything and then compile it later wasn’t sustainable. And it kept taking me out of the moment.
There are seasons of life where you can do more, and seasons of life where the win is simply noticing the good.
The goal isn’t to become the perfect chronicler of your family. The goal is to stay present while it’s happening and keep a story you can return to later.
That’s why the tagline is: Make the memories. Keep the story.
Make the memories is the living part. Keep the story is the saving part. Both matter—but the order matters too.
Something that has helped me is hearing how other people do it because it breaks the perfection spell.
I have a friend who decided she’ll make her kids a scrapbook every three years. So by the time they’re 18, they’ll each have six books. I love that because it’s finite, realistic, and has a built-in finish line. When I thought about my monthly books stacking up over 10–18 years, I was like… oof.
Part of what we’ll explore together on this show is: what’s sustainable for you? What’s meaningful for you? What fits your season? What becomes tangible?
And I want you to know I’m not teaching from the top of the mountain. I’m building this as I go. I’m in the trenches. I work full-time. I’m figuring it out. I’m in this with you.
This space is for both of us: to slow down, be present, and still remember it later.
Okay—one small step you can take this week. No fancy system required:
Create an album on your phone called Keep What Matters (or “2025 Keepers” or “The Story”—whatever makes you smile).
This week, add 10–12 photos—not the 10 best photos, just the photos you’d want if your phone disappeared tomorrow.
If you want to take it one tiny step further, add a caption—one sentence. You can do this in the Notes app, or in the caption area on iPhone (I just discovered you can add captions now).
Captions are searchable, so adding details like a name can be really helpful later—especially as this becomes an annual thing. Then you can find those photos and those memories more easily.
Optional questions:
Who was there? What did it feel like? Why does it matter?You’re not trying to catch up on a year of memories in one weekend. You’re creating a starting point—a place for the story to live.
Here’s your letter-for-later prompt for today:
If you could only keep 10–12 moments from this year—one per month—what would you choose?
If you take nothing else from today, take this: you are not behind—you are just overloaded. And we can build a rhythm that helps you keep what matters without missing your life.
Until next time: make the memories, keep the story. Letters from today, for the days ahead. Talk to you soon.
