Through Mom's Eyes: Simple Wisdom From Mothers Who Raised Extraordinary Humans by Sheinelle Jones - 1

It happens on the plaza just outside of The Today Show set all the time. When the host puts a microphone in front of a bubbly visitor and asks, “Is there anything you want to say?” do you know what we constantly hear?

“Hi, Mom!”

It’s a gut instinct and an almost universal go-to. We love our moms, and in our shining moments, when we most want to be seen, we want to make sure that they especially see us. In fact, according to an unscientific but earnest 2024 New York Times review of more than 1,500 Academy Awards speeches, moms beat out dads, spouses, and even God when tracking who was credited most frequently in this triumphant, very public moment. Hopefully, God understands.

It’s super inspiring and also just a bit terrifying when you think about the magnitude of this gift of motherhood. It’s a several-act play with zero intermissions; a physical, spiritual, and emotional marathon (my girlfriend likes to call it a mama-thon ). No matter what else we may do in life, we tend to see mothering our children as our most important role. Yet it’s also the one we’re the least formally prepared for, so we’re constantly learning as we go. We want so deeply to “do it right.” But there is no one, clear “right.” This is the reason for this book.

Motherhood comes in as many shapes and sizes as mothers and children do—and negotiating a lifetime of years together can be complicated. We all want to be the best moms we can be, hoping our children will soar as a result and come to see us as the wind beneath their wings. But in the day-to-day, we’re mostly just trying not to blow it. And the truth is, sometimes it feels like we do.

More than a dozen years ago, the arrivals of my three children—a son and a set of girl/boy twins—came with more excitement, happiness, wonder, pride, optimism, gratitude, and, of course, love than I ever imagined. But as a mom, I’ve also felt more anxious, tired, vulnerable, guilty, confused, and inadequate than I ever thought possible in my pre-mom life. And talk about humility! Few things are more humbling than having your beautiful, perfect, completely dependent newborn placed in your arms for the first time. As a love like no other engulfs you, so does the magnitude of your responsibility for their well-being, and the road ahead.

While I have definitely gained confidence in my parenting over time, no role I’ve ever taken on has made me more fully aware of what I don’t know, haven’t experienced, and have no idea how to navigate than being a mother.

So, looking for answers, seven years ago I launched a series on The Today Show in which I interview the moms of famous and successful people. After all, they must know something about this whole mothering thing, right? From the start, the answers and insights these seasoned and successful moms offered were invaluable, and I was excited for every interview. But before long the COVID-19 pandemic hit, and moms everywhere were thrown into unchartered territory. Like most of us, I got very comfortable with a nonstop loop of yoga pants and family time, very quickly. My interviews continued, thanks to Zoom, and—wouldn’t you know—the mama-mentors of my “Through Mom’s Eyes” series became a lifeline for me and countless other mothers watching. None of the moms I interviewed had ever been through mass isolation with their children, but they’d been through enough other challenges to calmly express the universal truth that eases every blow life offers: This too shall pass .

Once the pandemic did pass, I continued the series and started to believe in my heart that the stories and lived wisdom these moms shared deserved a broader audience and another forum. So, here we are.

As I write this, I’m a middle-aged mom who is lucky enough to still have my own mother and maternal grandmother to lean on. But when I started this book, I was a wife. Now I am a widow, a reality that’s so new to me that even as I type this and see it spelled out on the page, I’m still in disbelief. My nuclear family and I are in a whole different place than we were when I started to actively seek out mothering advice. My oldest, Kayin, is now in high school, and his younger siblings, Uche and Clara Josephine, are in hot pursuit. They’re all fully immersed in their own interests, busily developing their individual passions, personalities, and goals. I marvel at their growing independence and try to stay a step ahead of it (or at least not fall behind). So much of mothering is planning, doing, and protecting—but reacting, responding, and improvising are way up there too. And none of it stops—not for your migraine or so you can meet your deadline at work or for those times when you just need a minute to catch your breath. In fact, it might be right then that your kids need you most. Yet through it all—even, as I learned this year, through the most unimaginable of times—somehow, we find a way.

When I began writing this book, I thought I pretty much had my whole mothering/parenting/wifing thing under control. It wasn’t easy, but I was finally at ease with it. I don’t believe in perfection, so that’s never the goal—but things were good. My marriage was strong, my kids were thriving, and I had traded in the fantasy of becoming some Zen Master of work-life balance for the reality of a “routine” that was always up for grabs. I had carved function into the dysfunction, made peace with the near-constant chaos, and found genuine joy in the journey. But you know the drill. It seems as if whenever we get just a little too comfortable, life has a way of reminding us of how little we control.

That’s exactly what happened in the early fall of 2023 when—in the midst of what should have been a moment of pure elation—my active, seemingly uber-healthy forty-five-year-old husband, Uche, had a scare. As he crossed the finish line of his second triathlon, finishing strong and eager to celebrate with his fellow athletes, Uche found that he was having trouble speaking. The episode quickly passed, but it was unsettling enough to send him right to the doctor in search of answers. About a week later, what began as an ordinary day, with me waking up at the crack of dawn to get to work and the kids rushing off to school, ended with my husband of seventeen years receiving a diagnosis that would tragically alter everything. Uche had glioblastoma.

When we were told this news, I struggled to fully understand what the doctors were explaining, but they made one thing excruciatingly clear: This aggressive form of brain cancer doesn’t yet have a cure.

What followed was an eighteen-month battle for my husband’s life that forever changed our family and how I see the world. It also changed me on a molecular level. Uche had been my college sweetheart, and he was my and my children’s rock. Suddenly, he was also a patient and a deeply determined warrior in a fight that no one else with his disease had won, and I was now no longer just his wife—I was also his medical advocate, his sounding board and adviser as he sought to make critical decisions, his co-conspirator as he fiercely guarded his privacy, and, ultimately, his caregiver. At the same time, I was also still Mom to our children, trying to help them juggle the normal demands of their lives with the scary new reality of their father’s illness, even as I wrestled with what was happening myself.

To say that I was still reeling when, less than a week after Uche’s shocking diagnosis, he underwent his first brain surgery, would be a huge understatement. As I watched over him in the recovery room, I was grateful that he’d survived but still fretful about the road ahead. When he woke up, would he be able to speak well? Would his memory be intact? Would he be able to go home and enjoy time with the children again? Would he still be himself?

Imagine my relief when Uche opened his eyes and looked into mine, fully there, fully aware and understanding as I spoke to him, rejoicing in the recognition that he was still fully the man I knew and loved.

Now imagine my surprise when he eventually started to speak and one of the first things he said to me was, “Where’s your laptop?”

“What?” I said, wondering if at such a pivotal moment he was seriously going to bug me about writing, of all things.

Uche then explained how he wanted to make sure I continued writing this book. It was important to him that I wouldn’t be so knocked off course by his illness that I’d put this on hold or give it up altogether. The intense mix of emotions I’d been feeling about my husband and all he was enduring took on new layers of gratitude and amazement as I realized that, even in one of his lowest moments, Uche was thinking about my well-being and trying to protect my dream.

So, with that, I locked in and kept going. Month after month, through chemo visits and doctor’s appointments, I kept reading through the transcripts of interviews with the women you’re going to hear from in the pages ahead, and I kept writing. I quickly realized this book provided me with a type of therapy I didn’t know I needed. At the same time, Uche’s desire to see me complete it helped me to push myself and stay committed on days when I wasn’t sure I could, just as I watched him do again and again in his battle for more time, and more precious life, with our family.

Uche saw me finish this book before he passed, but I delayed its release, as you can understand, because the only thing that mattered to me in the wake of his loss was my children and making sure they were okay. Now, it’s time.

Although I continue to guard the privacy of our journey beyond this brief backdrop, I wanted you to know how integral this book was to that journey. It helped reshape me as a mom during the most painful transition of my life and my children’s lives, and it is helping to restore me as we move through our grief. That surely wasn’t what I had in mind when I started the “Through Mom’s Eyes” series or this book, but it’s a powerful validation of what it offers. It’s also a reminder that our plans have limitations, but our ability to adapt, even to the unthinkable, does not.

This book was created to help do for you what writing it has done for me—it seeks to guide, encourage, and inspire you through your best parenting days and the hard ones too. It’s for moms who, like me, are tending to our children with high hopes and sketchy road maps, which, in all likelihood, means all of us. Writing it became a lifeline for me as I stretched into spaces inside myself that I’d never had to access before—and that I wasn’t quite sure were there. Nothing pushes your limits—on repeat—like motherhood. It reveals who you are, but it also shows you that there are no limits to who you can become, especially in the life of your child. My wish is that this book will nurture and affirm you as you seek the growth and clarity that living your best maternal life requires.

I began this journey believing that mothering is all about the kids. But reflecting on my own life and the stories of these amazing moms made me see more clearly than ever that no matter how child-centered our families may be, self-preservation is at the root of strong parenting. And while good child-rearing is centered on an ability to help our children believe in the full range of their own possibilities, it also requires that we help them see and embrace the truth. Even hard truths. I feel like the clearer we are, the better we are—and the better off our kids will be.

The women featured in these pages candidly offer up the challenges they faced and changes they moved through as their children grew. The wisdom and diverse perspectives offered in their interviews resonate differently, but just as profoundly, every time I revisit them. I’m confident you’ll find the same to be true for you.

I’ll share a story that I don’t talk about often because it still upsets me. It forever altered how I operate as a mom, and as a person—leading me to an essential practice that I’m always working to refine (note, I did not say “perfect”). It took place more than a decade ago. My oldest son, Kayin, was three years old, and we had settled into a comfy family routine: He was used to getting all his parents’ attention, and we were all too happy to give it. But with the arrival of his twin siblings, our only child had suddenly become the first of three, and I was scrambling to reconcile the needs of a busy toddler with those of two newborn babies.

Don’t get me wrong, I was happy to have twins! Like, beside myself happy! I had another son— and a daughter! And everybody was healthy! I mean, this was literally a dream come true. But I was also competing in the ultimate endurance test—a tri-mama-thon of near-constant feedings, diaper changes, and laundry, requiring lots of running up and down flights of stairs—all while sleep-deprived—and I was beat.

One day, Uche had taken Kayin out and I was home alone with the babies, little Uche and Clara Josephine. Holding my newborn daughter in my arms, with socks on my feet for warmth, I made my way downstairs to the basement where her twin was patiently waiting for us in his snuggly infant chair. As was often the case, my mind was all over the place. I can’t remember the specifics, but I can easily guess—there were probably phone calls and emails to return, clothes in the washer that needed to go into the dryer, clothes in the dryer that needed to be folded and put away, shopping to do (were we out of diapers and detergent again ?), and when was the last time I’d washed my hair (or even combed it?). You get the picture. Maybe you’ve even been there.

Bottom line, my thoughts were not on where I was—namely, on uncarpeted stairs, in slippery socks, with my healthy, brand-new baby in my arms—when I slipped. BOOMBOOMBOOM down the stairs I went, bottom (thankfully!) first.

Instinctively, I tucked Clara into my torso as tightly as I could, and I landed still sitting upright, hitting the edge of that last step REALLY hard. I squeezed my eyes shut on impact, terrified of what I might find when I opened them. I knew I’d managed to keep my baby girl cradled in my arms, but had I held her too tightly, causing pain while trying to spare her? Would her sweet face be contorted into one of those awful soundless screams while her tiny fists lashed about in outrage at my carelessness? Would she recognize the shame in my eyes and know that, today, her mom had been more lucky than good? My heart sank at the thought of it all. But when I looked at my precious daughter, she gazed back at me, her big brown eyes still full of trust. Oblivious to my horror and physical pain, she offered me a toothless grin as if to say what we mothers often say to reassure our little ones after they’ve survived a scrape: “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re just fine.”

I sat there for a second, my bottom throbbing, in shock. Shame and gratitude washed over me, as I quickly processed how tragic our tumble could have been. I said a prayer in that moment, through tears, and realized it was time for me to slow down.

It was suddenly clear that nothing I had been thinking about mattered, especially when compared to the safety of my children and, to keep them safe, I needed to stay mindful and fully present. The huge bruise on my backside served as a reminder long enough for me to build a new practice that I have continued to this day. Practicing mindfulness helps me avoid slipping into the carelessness that can come with feeling overwhelmed, both as a mom and at work. It takes constant effort, but being mindful really makes me better at everything I do.

More than a decade later, I still cringe when I think about falling down those steps with my baby. But I have also forgiven myself (for that, and more). We live and learn.

That’s what this book is about. Giving ourselves the grace, as mothers, to admit what we don’t know, seek the help we need, forgive ourselves for our missteps and limitations, learn from each other, and embrace the fullness of our journeys—the blessings and victories, the stumbles, tumbles, and imprints, including the bruises, they leave behind. This book honors all of it. And it also honors you, wherever you are in your motherhood journey.

Through Mom’s Eyes is for anyone raising children who wants to feel encouraged—and to perhaps laugh a little—thanks to honest, loving advice from the mothers of some people who have achieved huge dreams and won the respect of millions in the process. I occasionally add a little perspective of my own, along with that of a few colleagues and friends. Of course, I also include insights from my mom and her mother, two of the wisest people I know. They were my most dependable champions growing up, both towering examples of what a mom should be. They still are. My father and maternal grandfather were way up there too. All of them helped me craft a pretty simple and idealistic outlook on life even though my family journey in Wichita, Kansas, was complicated. While there was way more good than bad, my childhood was shaped by my parents’ divorce when I was a baby, followed by both of their remarriages, the blending of families, a reset when my mom divorced a second time, and the perspective that comes with all of that.

Writing this book made me reflect on those years and the lessons they taught me in ways I never had before. It sparked conversations with my mom and grandmother, and other women in my diverse circles of friends, that challenged us, brought us all closer, and made us all better. I believe that something extraordinary is created whenever mothers connect—and that something benefits not only us but our kids.

The many moms in my village have taught me when to ask for help and when to listen to my instincts. They’ve helped me expand how I think about my children’s success (and my own, as a mom) and to recognize more of the infinite routes it might take. They’ve helped me to become a better person, and a happier one. One goal of this book is to do that for you too.

As you join me in conversation with these wise, funny, generous women, we’re going to cover the gamut of child-rearing issues such as discipline, chores, faith, divorce, illness, time management, self-care, and blended families (and much more!). We freely discuss the self-doubt, guilt, and fear that these things can trigger along with the unmatched joy, pride, and thrills motherhood offers.

Whether you read this book from start to finish or consume it in small bites driven by what most speaks to you, I promise that as you and your children evolve, you’ll discover new gems here. I also hope that some of these offerings will help shape how you do or see things as you develop your own personal best style of mothering.

With Through Mom’s Eyes , you’re officially part of the best moms meet-up group in the world. Here you’ll find empathy, generosity, solidarity, and the kind of well-earned wisdom that helps get you through the day, then stays with you for a lifetime. Welcome! Wherever motherhood takes us, we’re in this together, and I’m so glad you’re here.