We’re in New York City this week for medical appointments. Olivia had a colonoscopy yesterday, and the results weren’t what we hoped for. After three years in remission, her Crohn’s disease is active again.
Those words are hard to say out loud. Three years. Three years of stability, of finding a rhythm that worked, of breathing a little easier knowing the medication was doing its job. And now we’re back in that space of uncertainty, facing new treatments, new questions, and new fears.
Olivia is sad. Stressed. Frustrated. And honestly, I understand every bit of that. She’s 22 years old and in her second year of law school in Nashville. She works hard, she gives her all, and she does everything she can to stay healthy and balanced. She’s been managing this disease for six years, almost a third of her life.
As her mom, I’m feeling something different. Of course I’m sad too. No parent wants to watch their child struggle. But I’m also optimistic. We’ve been here before, and I know we’ll find our way through again.
That’s the thing about long-term illness. It teaches you how to adapt. It teaches you how to move forward, even when you don’t want to.
The Beginning
Olivia was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease when she was sixteen, during her senior year of high school. For months she told us she wasn’t feeling well, with stomach pains, fatigue, and eventually significant weight loss. Like many parents, we thought it was probably stress or maybe something she was eating. It wasn’t until she lost so much weight that we realized this was something serious.
Getting that diagnosis was devastating. Crohn’s is a chronic inflammatory disease that affects the digestive system. It doesn’t go away. It’s something you live with and manage every day. Some days are good. Some days are hard. And sometimes, the treatment that once worked suddenly stops working.
When she was first diagnosed, the doctors started her on a medication called Stelara, a biologic that helps reduce inflammation in the body. And for six years, it worked beautifully. It gave her back her energy, her appetite, and her sense of normalcy. She went to college, studied abroad, and started law school. She was able to live her life without constantly worrying about her health.
But Crohn’s has a way of reminding you it’s still there. Over the last few months, Olivia started feeling off. More stomach pain. More urgency. Just not herself. Her doctors decided it was time to take a closer look, and that’s what brought us to New York.
The Change
After the procedure, her doctor sat with us and explained what they found. The inflammation was back. The Stelara was no longer doing what it needed to do. Sometimes, the body builds resistance to medication. It’s no one’s fault. It just happens.
So now we’re moving to a new treatment called Skyrizi. It’s a newer biologic that targets inflammation differently. It starts with three infusions over several weeks and then transitions to self-injections that she won’t have to do as often as before. It’s a new path forward, and while it’s not what we planned, it’s where we are.
When we got back to the hotel after the procedure, Olivia didn’t curl up and shut down. She opened her laptop and messaged the dean of her law school. She explained what was going on and asked about options for support as she begins this new treatment.
That’s who she is: responsible, proactive, and brave. She doesn’t hide from what’s happening, even when it’s painful. And for me, watching her advocate for herself reminded me of just how strong she really is.
Stress is one of the biggest triggers for Crohn’s, and law school isn’t exactly a low-stress environment. But she’s learning how to manage it in her own way, with humor, mindset work, and a community of people who love her. Her friends, being who they are, took the Skyrizi ads they found online and photoshopped her face onto them, sending them in their group chat. It made her laugh, which I think helped more than they realize. Sometimes laughter really is medicine.
The Rule We Made
When Olivia was first diagnosed, we made a rule. It’s one we’ve carried with us through every setback since.
Feel the emotions, all of them. Then pick a day to move forward.
It’s simple but powerful. Because the truth is, you can’t rush grief or disappointment. You can’t skip over the sadness or the anger or the fear. You have to let yourself feel it. But we also know that if you stay stuck there too long, nothing good comes from it.
So we pick a day. We don’t wait until we feel ready, because that day might never come. We pick a date, we put it on the calendar, and when that day arrives, we move forward.
Moving forward doesn’t mean pretending everything’s okay. It doesn’t mean ignoring the hard parts. It means deciding to live the best life possible in the middle of uncertainty. It means showing up anyway.
That’s what Olivia is doing right now. She’s sad, yes. She’s frustrated. But she’s also looking ahead. She knows this disease is part of her story, but it doesn’t define who she is.
What Moving Forward Looks Like
For now, forward means starting her new medication soon in Nashville. Her boyfriend will be there with her through the infusions, and I’ll travel to her when she needs me. We’ll take it one day at a time.
For me, forward means remembering that optimism doesn’t mean denial. It means choosing to believe that things can still get better.
I think that’s something all of us can relate to, whether it’s a health challenge, a career setback, or a personal loss. We all have moments that knock us down, moments that force us to pause and rethink what’s next. But staying in that place of sorrow doesn’t serve us. You have to give yourself permission to feel it, then pick your day and start moving again.
Finding Strength in the Middle
Watching Olivia go through this has reminded me of how much strength it takes to live with something that doesn’t go away. Chronic illness requires a kind of resilience that most people don’t see. It’s the quiet kind, the strength to keep showing up for your life when you’re tired, or scared, or frustrated.
But it also brings perspective. We’ve learned to celebrate the small wins. A good day. A laugh that lightens the heaviness. A supportive message from a friend.
And even in the middle of this setback, I see so much good. I see her courage. Her humor. Her ability to ask for help when she needs it. And I see the incredible people who surround her with love.
Choosing Hope
As her mom, I wish I could take this away. I wish I could fix it or trade places with her. But what I can do, and what I will keep doing, is remind her that hope always lives here, even when things feel uncertain.
That’s what moving forward really means to us. It’s not about pretending the pain doesn’t exist. It’s about believing that joy can still coexist with it.
So right now, we’re taking a breath. We’re feeling it all: the sadness, the disappointment, the determination. And soon, Olivia will pick her day. She’ll start this new chapter. She’ll do it scared if she has to, but she’ll do it.
Because that’s what she’s always done.
And I’ll be right there beside her.
If you or someone you love is going through a season of uncertainty, whether it’s health-related, emotional, or something else entirely, I hope you give yourself permission to feel it all too. Let the tears come if they need to. Sit with the sadness for a little while. But don’t wait to feel ready. Pick your day.
Because forward doesn’t mean perfect. It means possible.
If this story resonates with you or reminds you of your own journey, I’d love to hear from you. Share your story or words of encouragement in the comments below. Sometimes knowing we’re not alone is exactly what helps us move forward.
