Let's be real: Despite what Instagram would have you believe, parenting simply isn't easy.

Don't get me wrong, being a mom is far and beyond the most rewarding thing I have ever done. But between the constant worries, the tantrums, the social media and mommy blogs that convince you you're doing it all wrong, the ups and downs, it's easy to get caught in a downward spiral of doubt.

Even before I became a mom, I noticed the judgment and negativity that often comes as a result of parenting websites, and for years I've toyed around with the idea of creating an online space that, in my own small sphere of influence, can change that culture.

Thus, the idea for "The Art of Parenthood" was born.

Parenting is an art, not a science. Just like in art, where different approaches, styles and tools yield different results, parenting is the same. Everyone has a different taste in art, but it can't be argued that there's something beautiful about the expression of feeling in each piece of art. The same is true for parenting and it's result: children, who come in many shapes, sizes and colors, but who all deserve love.

Eventually, I want this to be a place that, instead of making you feel guilty for not doing enough, inspires you to keep pushing through. This will be a space where I can tell uplifting stories of parents and children who overcome hardship, a space for positive, no-shame parenting ideas and tips to get you through the tough days.

Yes, I have high hopes and dreams for this goal, but for now, this is a space to tell my story — our story — which in so many ways is the hardest thing for me to do.

I've worked as a journalist for a decade now, finding fulfillment in telling other people's stories, hoping to inspire and uplift through the words and experiences of others.

But now is a time to tell my story.

After years of thinking about starting a blog, the catalyst for actually doing it comes from a desire to share our experience with our son, Luke.

At 12 weeks gestation, Luke was diagnosed with anencephaly, a neural tube defect that is incompatible with life. We chose to carry Luke to term, and he was born stillborn at 40 weeks.

We felt a whirlwind of emotions with Luke's diagnosis and death, and we have been far from perfect in how we've dealt with this trial. But, I am a firm believer that out of the ashes comes beauty, and I hope by sharing what we've learned and continue to learn, even just one person can be aided on their own journey.

About me

Hey there! Whitney Wilde here, Mama by day, journalist and editor by night, chocolate addict all the time.

I live in Los Angeles, California, with my husband, Blake, who studies cancer research at UCLA. We have a 3-year-old son named Jack, and another son, our angel baby, Luke, who was born stillborn in May 2020.

I have a degree in journalism from the University of Utah and have worked for a newspaper in Salt Lake City, Utah, for almost a decade now, doing everything from writing about arts, entertainment and religion to answering the phones to wrangling interns. Currently, I work remotely for that same newspaper as a copy editor.

I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and my faith permeates all that I do and am, as you will see in this blog, particularly as I tell the story of our precious Luke. I served a mission for the Church in Rochester, New York, and at the Hill Cumorah Visitors' Center, which is where I met my husband (he stopped by the visitors center while on vacation with some mutual friends we had and we started dating when I returned to Utah). We've been married since 2014. For additional information about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, visit comeuntochrist.org.

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