Big Girl Panties Diaries – Entry #104: When You’re Grateful—but Still Bracing Yourself

I still can’t believe Hailey’s a senior this year.

The last few years have been a blur of hospital hallways, unanswered questions, and trying to get her better. Somewhere between the medical appointments and the symptom spreadsheets, both of my girls grew up. I blinked, and suddenly we were talking about college applications, car insurance, and curfews instead of lab results and fatigue scores.

When I first shared our story back in Entry #1: What 35 Doctors (and One Boss) Taught Me About Finding My Voice, I never imagined it would still be unfolding three years later. Back then, I was just learning to speak up—to insist that her pain be seen and her symptoms taken seriously. I became the historian of her illness, the keeper of the notes, the project manager no one asked for but she desperately needed.

This year, though, things look different. The school year started with a bang—her driver’s license, the independence of having her own car, and the fierce determination to reclaim a “normal” senior year. (We already lived through that milestone in Entry #73: She Got the License—And I Got a Masterclass in Resilience, and I’m still recovering.) So far, she’s only missed one day of school. One. For a kid whose attendance record used to look like a patchwork quilt of hospital visits, that’s nothing short of miraculous.

It’s been unseasonably warm here, and I see her carefully negotiating with her body. Hailey has POTS—Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome—a nervous system disorder that makes her heart race when she stands up and her body forget how to regulate itself. It’s one of the lingering effects of long COVID that doctors are still working to fully understand. For her, that means constant hydration, salt, and electrolytes just to stay upright. Some days, even standing too long can trigger dizziness, fatigue, or fainting.

And this is only one of many things she’s managing. POTS is just the headline—there are subplots and side effects that don’t always make it into the conversation, but they shape every part of her day.

I haven’t mentioned this before, but my younger sister has also been battling long COVID—even longer than Hailey. It’s been heartbreaking to watch both of them navigate this unpredictable illness with limited answers and endless ups and downs. Two people I love so deeply, fighting the same invisible storm from different corners. Some days it feels like we’re all just learning to breathe underwater together—holding hope between us like a shared lifeline.

Hailey’s trying to live like a regular teenager while remembering her body doesn’t always play by the rules.

In Entry #61: When “Not That” Is Still a Win, I wrote about the strange kind of relief that comes when a doctor rules something out—progress that doesn’t feel like progress. And in Entry #66: We Might Have Had a Breakthrough, I shared how one doctor finally saw the pattern behind her pain. Those moments taught me that healing isn’t linear, and hope isn’t foolish. It’s fuel.

And me? I’m trying to stay in the present—without pretending the past can’t repeat itself. I’d love to believe the worst is behind us, but I’ve learned not to mistake calm for cure. We all needed a break from the appointments and the medical “what ifs,” but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still bracing myself. Because every year, when the weather turns cold, her body seems to follow.

Not a sniffly cold. The kind of sick that steals color from her face and laughter from our days.

So for now, I’m sitting in the quiet between storms—grateful for her laughter, for one more “normal” school day, for a calendar filled with teenage plans instead of test results. I think back to Entry #51: The Sweet Spot (Isn’t on a Map), when a spontaneous detour to Hershey reminded me that joy doesn’t wait for life to calm down. You make room for it in the middle of the chaos—or you miss it entirely.

And none of this would be possible without the glue that holds us together: Anna. I wrote about her in Entry #74: The Sister Who Holds Us Together (With Gummy Bears, Hugs, and Fierce Love). She’s the steady hum in the background—the one who makes Hailey laugh when I’m worrying too much, who keeps us moving when everything feels heavy, who knows instinctively when we all just need chocolate and a hug.

So maybe this year, the other shoe doesn’t drop. Maybe it just reminds me to notice the stillness before it could. To hold gratitude and fear in the same hand and not let either spill over.

Because maybe this—this fragile, messy, beautiful now—is what healing actually looks like.

Big Girl Panties Diaries Rule: Hope isn’t pretending the worst won’t happen—it’s choosing to live fully even while you’re bracing yourself for what might.