Mediation. A hearing. A list of over 70 schools. More than 20 releases of information signed. A dozen school tours. Hours of meetings. Thousands of emails. And let’s not forget the sleepless nights and the tears. All of this has been part of the exhausting, soul-crushing process of finding a therapeutic school for Courtney.

Now, it seems the search may be coming to an end—but instead of relief, I feel more frustrated than ever. A school has been chosen, but not by us. Not by the parents who know her best. Not by the people who have fought for her every step of the way. And worst of all, not a school we believe will truly meet her needs.

We’ve spent years advocating—asking, pushing, sometimes begging—for the right support, only to be met with roadblocks and excuses. This past year, we’ve fought harder than ever for what we know is best for Courtney. They say they want to help, but their version of “meeting Courtney’s needs” continues to fall painfully short.

I don’t need a perfect school. I just need a place where Courtney will be supported, challenged, and respected. A place where she isn’t just accommodated but truly understood. A place where, in whatever way she can, she’ll show me, This feels right. I didn’t realize that was asking for the impossible.

More than anything, I wish we could ask Courtney. I wish she could tell us where she wants to go.

But until we find that place, I won’t stop looking.