Why Love Hard?

photo: Paperplane Magazine

photo: Paperplane Magazine

Hi!  I’m Katie, and welcome to Love Hard,

A lifestyle blog about loving the crap out of babies and travel and crafts and friendship and stuff…

“crap” was an unfortunate word choice for babies….

I’m 8 1/2 months pregnant and on bed rest at the moment, so while the focus of this blog will shift later to travels and mommyhood and interviews of interesting and inspiring humans, there will be a lot of pregnancy rants for now.  I hope they make you laugh and commiserate, because…

Pregnancy is crazy.


But insane.

And I’m sure motherhood will be the same.

admin-ajax (2)Why write?

This has been a long time coming for me.  I love a lot of things, and will talk your ear off about them, which is super annoying.  Writing is better, you can CHOOSE to read it, instead of me cornering you and bombarding you with reasons you should go to my dentist (SHE’S AMAZING), or try this cafe (BECAUSE CHOCOLATE), or meet this human (I’M OBSESSED WITH MY HUMANS.)

Some back story…

admin-ajax (2)Times I’ve thought about starting a blog

 1. When I was traveling.

I spent 2 years traveling for work when I was 19-21 (Hello, walking in straight lines on runways in Milan and modeling ugly sweaters in the alps), then 8 years all over the US with my husband while he played minor league baseball (Hello, tiny studio in Mahoning Valley, Ohio next to a drive through liquor store named “MMMMMMM, beer.”)  For the past 15 years, we’ve tried to travel every year, as cheaply and creatively as possible (Hello, camping in Costa Rica, 1970’s attic apartment in Wales, school house in Iceland, houseboat in Paris, and our personal favorite, transformer van in New Zealand)

admin-ajax (2)I didn’t write because… it seemed braggy, and I felt self conscious.

2.  At work.

Since “taking 6 months off” from college in 2003….(yeah)… I’ve been based in Los Angeles, working as an actress and model.  I grew up loving theater and planned on being a starving artist in NYC, not really sure what happened to that plan.  This job is weird and dumb and sometimes awesome and mostly embarrassing (Hello, casting director yelling “MORE DEAD FISH! at you while you flail around on the floor in a bikini pretending to be a mermaid.), and I love it.

admin-ajax (2)I didn’t write because… it felt self-indulgent, and self promotion gives me anxiety.  I have a work website, but it took me 3 years of having the url to even start it.   I just got on Twitter and I’m 31.  And what is snap chat?  Don’t tell me.  I won’t understand it.

3. In 2012 when shit got real.

After one of my close friends died in a ATV accident in the summer of 2012, I was diagnosed with PTSD, and spent the next year frozen in fear and anxiety, emerging slowly with the help of an incredibly strong and loving husband, supportive and understanding family and friends, a kick-ass therapist, and the determination not to let myself live like that.  Losing other loved ones later that year, combined with the miscarriage of our first baby, made that year the hardest and most transformative of my life.  I had never experienced anxiety and panic attacks before, and wanted to talk to everyone I possibly could about it, so I could FIX it.

But in the end, what made it better was not feeling so alone, and having a community of people who understood and could talk me through it.  When I was better, I wanted to be part of that community and maybe bring comfort to someone else.

admin-ajax (2)I didn’t write because… I was still lost… writing was too visceral… I wasn’t ready.

admin-ajax (2)What made me actually start writing

Being super pregnant.

The kind of pregnant where your answer to any question is “I’M FUCKING PREGNANT.”, even if that questions is “what do you want for lunch?” or “could you pass me the salt?” or “what’s for dessert?”


…I am also hungry.

Like I said, being pregnant is awesome.  (Specifically, growing a person is awesome)

And exhausting and gross and simultaneously the coolest and scariest thing ever.

My body is a weird science experiment I don’t fully understand.

There is a tiny person who kicks me back when I push on his little foot, and hiccups so violently my whole belly shakes, and makes me sleepier than I ever knew was possible (yes, yes…I know that’s only going to get worse).

I want to protect him with a level of intensity and violence I didn’t know I was capable of.  If you try to hurt this child I will run you over with a train.

When I passed the first trimester, and realized, holy crap this might actually be happening, I scoured the internet for information about being pregnant that wasn’t anxiety producing (Goodbye, What to Expect When You’re Expecting, you now live in my best friend’s freezer a la “Friends” because you are terrifying) or ridiculously unrealistic (Goodbye, new mommas on instagram who post perfect pictures of mommyhood and talk about how perfectly their babies just fell out of their vaginas in a perfect home birth surrounded by chirping birds and the auras of the essence of the goddess of motherhood blah blah blah shut up.)

There are some gems out there, Pregnant Chicken and Scary Mommy are my current favorites.

I want to add to this honesty, to talk about the real shit that happens to your body and brain when hormones flood into it and there’s an alien line dancing on your internal organs,  and to be part of this support system for other mamas, and mamas to be.

admin-ajax (2)Why “Love Hard”?

I can’t “like” things.

I either LOVE IT, or can’t be bothered to give a shit.

There’s no wishy washy, “that’s nice” unless I’m actually ignoring it… there’s only, “IT’S THE BEST, MOST AWESOMEST THING IVE EVER SEEN/EATEN/MET/EXPERIENCED/ETC.’

This has no boundaries, it applies to everything from food to mechanics, from places and travels to animals and peoples.  And I can’t stop talking about it.  BECAUSE YOU NEED TO KNOW IN CASE YOU WILL LOVE IT TOO.

I’m just trying to help.

But it’s really hard to shut me the fuck up.


I’m working on it.

admin-ajax (2)I promise

In conclusion, I promise that this will be the longest post I’ll ever write.

I promise I will be honest.

I promise I will be positive and encouraging and supportive.  Except when things suck, and then I will be snarky and sarcastic and annoyed.

I promise all the opinions will be my own, and I’ll never endorse a person or product I don’t believe in or love hard.

thanks for reading,


I’m new at this…so any comments, questions, or suggestions are welcome and encouraged!  As long as they’re nice…if they’re mean I will pregnancy rage at you admin-ajax