Journal Writing: Memory, Meaning, Motherhood

If life is made of moments, then journaling is how we hold them still long enough to truly see them. Journaling, for me, has been the one place where memory, meaning, and motherhood braid together. 

In the fall, I hosted a Jack-and-Jill shower for my very first grandchild, arriving in December, and I could not be more excited. Lately, I’ve been reflecting on change—the turning of the seasons and the way a new baby shifts everything, even before they arrive.

When I was expecting my first child, I began journaling to him, a tradition I continued with each of my children. I wrote about milestones, the funny things they said, proud moments—little snapshots of our lives I didn’t want to forget. I always imagined I’d give each child their journal when they welcomed a child of their own.

There is something powerful about seeing the world and capturing it on the page. Journaling isn’t just writing things down; it’s preserving a moment in its raw, unedited form. It’s proof of life and of living. When I look back through my journals now, I see my life from different vantage points. Sometimes the simple act of rereading is enough to transport me; other times, what I once wrote becomes material for a new piece of writing, reshaped into something altogether different.

When I think of journal writing, I’m reminded of these Virginia Woolf quotes:

 “Let us record the atoms as they fall upon the mind in the order in which they fall; let us trace the pattern, however disconnected and incoherent in appearance, which each sight or incident scores upon the consciousness”

 “Nothing has really happened until it has been described.”

 “It is only by putting it into words that I make it whole.”

Over the years, I’ve kept all kinds of journals—diaries, dream logs, travel journals, writing notebooks, pages written to my children. Now, I keep everything in one bullet journal I write in daily. Whether it’s a list or a reflection or a rant or a stream-of-consciousness entry, there is always something worth saying each day.

Before handing over my eldest son’s journals, I reread them—a walk through memories I hadn’t revisited in years. I was grateful I’d captured those moments on the page, and maybe, just maybe, I’ve inspired him to start a journal for his daughter too.

It’s been so long since we’ve had a baby in the family. I can’t wait to see the world again through her eyes. And you can be sure, I’ll be writing it all down.