The Slowest Art I've Ever Made

Sometimes it boils down to not giving up

Even the origin story is blurry at this point. I cannot tell you where I was standing (in the kitchen? the bathroom? the backyard?), or what I was doing (boiling pasta? washing my hair? pulling weeds?) when the idea first entered my brain. Even so, I would be confident telling you this: the idea didn’t come from me.

It simply arrived like a gift left on the porch with no return address.

Here. This is for you.

As I am prone to do, I picked the gift up off my porch and got to work. I had never made a narrative podcast before, but that did not stop me from telling the entire internet of my plans. Hello, Instagram, I am making a new thing! I announced it widely with little reservation, which could be considered dumb or brave depending on who you ask.

The vision: a story-driven narrative podcast exploring what some women overcome in their pursuit of motherhood. I wanted depth. I wanted nuance. Something that, in the end, would leave every listener with a softer heart.

Knowing I’d need help bringing this dream to life, I threw together a very simple Google form: Do you have experience producing, editing, or hosting a narrative-style podcast? Introduce yourself here, and let’s see if we’re a good fit.

Exactly five people responded.

Reading through the applications, I spotted another gift on the porch. Her name was Julie and she used to work in TV news as an associate producer, field reporter and weekend anchor. She explained that while she didn’t have podcasting experience, per se, she was skilled in researching, writing, interviewing, and editing—“all to make a story come alive for the audience.” Her experience was impressive on its own, but it’s the way she described herself that caught my attention.

You know the person that always hears someone’s life story on an airplane or in a waiting room? That’s me. My friends laugh about it, but honestly I find people fascinating.

She was perfect, exactly what—or who—I needed. Even more miraculous? She lived 30 minutes from my house, which is no small thing considering the majority of my “coworkers” live spread out across the country.

We met for coffee in January of 2020. I hardly remember the details of that initial conversation, but I remember she brought a printed resume (!), while—in contrast—I said at least three times, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

She was warm, gracious, and hyper-professional.

And I … well, I rambled a lot.

In spite of that, we hit it off, mostly thanks to our shared passion for motherhood and good storytelling. I sent her an email later: I don't say this lightly ... every so often it feels like God drops a person in my lap who is exactly the right fit for the task at hand. That is exactly how I feel about you.

Meanwhile, 86 women applied to be part of the show—called “Journey to Motherhood” at the time.

Six weeks later, the world shut down.

Presley was 11 months old when I started working on this podcast. Last weekend, we celebrated her 6th birthday.

The past five years have mostly been a blur. Covid. A stint of forced homeschooling. I wrote and published an entire book. Got pregnant. Lost the baby. My best friend’s life fell apart. My husband changed jobs three times, wrecking his mental health in the process. Those are simply the big things, to say nothing of the everyday things: kids getting sick, marital conflict, ants all over the kitchen, financial worry, the leaking sink, the sunken roof, we’re out of eggs again, ER visits, work stress, deadlines, general anxiety inflamed by divisive times and toxic elections.

This is also not to say anything of Julie’s Big Things—the main one being a breast cancer diagnosis and double mastectomy.

And yet. Humming in the background of all life has thrown at us, we never lost our passion for these women, and we never lost our passion for their stories.

Cue the music, this is where the video montage begins. I bought a book. Signed Julie up for an online course. Ordered a dozen microphones. So many late night Google searches. We met up at coffee shops and podcast studios and coworking spaces and our own homes. We built outlines and scripts and revised them to death. Headphones in. Hours of audio. Tears streaming down our faces. Play it again. Play it again. Wait, did you catch what she said there? Play it again.

I’ll never forget our desperate search for a good editor. Where would we find such a thing?

“My husband might be able to help,” Julie offered one day.

“Really?” I asked in disbelief, not understanding how a guy who worked in finance could come to our editing rescue.

“Yeah this is going to sound random,” she laughed, “but … in his spare time, he makes beats.”

He makes. Beats.

I wish you could have seen my face.

Srsly, God? Did you really hand deliver me a professional news anchor with a passion for hearing other people’s stories who just so happens to be married to a man with a secret penchant for creating rhythms and melodies using the same digital tools and software we need to produce this series?

Same porch, new gift.

Onward and upward.

There are a hundred things I want to tell you about this project. About what it’s been like to carry the honor and privilege of stewarding these specific stories. What it’s been like to pick this project up and be forced to set it down—over and over again—not because we wanted to but because we had to. What it’s been like, emotionally, to stay invested and determined in seeing it through, despite bumping the deadline from 2021 to 2022 to 2023 to 2024, and now, finally, to 2025.

Simply put, though, this is what I want you to know:

At the end of my life, I think 90% of my creative work will be long forgotten. Maybe a few things will stick to the memories of the people who enjoyed them. A space I poured my whole heart into for over a decade. A book I wrote that I pray has staying power.

And now, this.

From where I stand, Making a Mother is one of the most special, sacred, holy projects I have ever had the joy of working on. And I say that not because of the five completed episodes, although I am proud of those. I say that because making this series changed me. My heart is softer, more compassionate, and more empathetic. My view of motherhood is more nuanced. My faith has deepened. My hope has grown. I am walking away from this series with more belief in God’s redemptive hand in every painful story around me—even when I can’t see the final chapter yet.

But in the end, don’t listen for me.

Listen for Kate.
For Cindy.
For Faith.
For Jerrell.
For Amanda.

Listen for them.

A final plea:

Releasing this show into the world feels on par with a book launch. And yet, our marketing budget is zero dollars (we are already in the red on this project). There is no publicist pitching this series to Cup of Jo¹. No influencers being bribed with shiny boxes to share this on their socials. Like always, we are small and scrappy and ordinary word of mouth is all we have, which is why I am 1) begging you to listen to this show, and 2) begging you to share it with your friends.

The first three episodes are live!

Episode One: Did I Do Something Wrong?

Episode Two: Your Story Doesn’t End Here

Episode Three: You’re Not Gonna Quit On This Kid

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Easy, quick, free ways to support Making a Mother:

1. Listen and subscribe to the show on Apple, Spotify, Amazon, or anywhere else.

2. Share the show wherever/however it feels most genuine. Send a group text to your friends who love podcasts! Post about in your local mom FB groups, tell your book club, tell your home group, tell your coworkers. We’d love for you to share this series on social media, on Substack, and anywhere else people are hanging out online these days. Only have 10 seconds to spare? Click share on any of our Making a Mother posts!

3. Leave a 5-star rating wherever you listen to podcasts. If you only have 20 seconds, leaving a review increases visibility and helps build credibility with potential listeners.

4. Consider hosting a Podcast Club. If you want all the gold stars and brownie points, we’ve made discussion guides for every episode (found in the show notes!). Rally up a group of friends after they’ve listened to the show, throw together a charcuterie board, tell everyone to show up in pajamas, and use our PDF guides as a jumping off point into meaningful conversations.

One last thought —

In a world where AI continues to threaten all manner of art, supporting slow art made by real humans is a tiny, crucial act of rebellion. This show was created, written, and produced by a very very small team of very very real people who poured—quite literally— hundreds of hours into making it. When you devour and share real art made by real humans, THIS MATTERS. ❤️

*steps off soapbox*

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to those of you who have already listened to and shared the series and taken the time to message us about it. We remain humbled, grateful, and excited to see what God will do.

1. But, like, if you’re a publicist with a hookup to Cup of Jo, feel free to slide into my DMs!!!