A year ago today, I posted a piece titled “It’s Okay to Not Be Okay.” I reflected on how incredibly hard January and February had been for our family due to some traumatic events. In that post, I wrote:

“January and February were so hard. Actually, they were traumatic. I welcomed March with open arms, even though it came with some big changes. But after a meeting with Courtney’s school today, I’m not feeling confident that March will be much better.”

March wasn’t much better. In fact, that’s when everything truly started. That’s when it was first hinted that Courtney’s team was leaning toward recommending an outplacement. The official recommendation came in May, but I knew it was coming as of March 8, 2024.

Here we are, one year later. I could write a book about what we’ve been through over the past year—the struggles, the tears, the arguments. It was awful. And all because we were fighting for something Courtney had a right to: a Free and Appropriate Public Education.

A few days ago, I posted that a school had been found—a school not of our choosing. I shared that we were ready to keep advocating. But with the guidance and support of some incredibly important members of #TeamCourtney, we decided the best path forward was to give this new school a try.

The tears have been flowing lately—tears of exhaustion, anger, and fear. You know the five stages of grief? I’m pretty sure I’ve felt them all this week.

At first, choosing to move forward with the assigned school felt like admitting defeat after everything we had fought for. But we were quickly reminded that this couldn’t be further from the truth. We poured our hearts into advocating for our girl. Even Alyssa made sure her voice was heard throughout this process. Our goal was always to ensure Courtney got what she deserves. And that, my friends, makes our family winners.

To everyone who has been part of #TeamCourtney in so many ways—thank you! Now, if you could continue being part of her team by sending all the positive vibes as she starts at her new school next week, we would be so grateful.

I am her voice. She is my heart.

Advocating for my girls has been the hardest job I’ve ever had—yet, without hesitation, it’s a job I would do over and over again, no matter the difficulty. Lately, that fight has been more exhausting than ever, specifically for Courtney. We have poured our hearts into this battle, doing everything in our power to secure the right support for her. And yet, after all that effort, here we are.

I am at a loss. How did we get to this point? I’ve replayed every conversation in my head a thousand times, searching for answers. But no matter how many times I go over it, the outcome remains the same.

Today was Courtney’s last day at her current school. And no, you didn’t miss a big announcement—we haven’t found a school for Courtney. The district did. A school we did not approve of.

Is this legal? How is this okay? What happens next? These questions have consumed my thoughts for the past 36 hours.

I want to have faith that this new school will be the right fit for her. But after everything she has been through over the years, my patience for “wait and see” is gone.

I want to trust that the district knows what’s best for Courtney. But after so many broken promises, that trust no longer exists.

So, what now? The only thing I can do: Keep fighting. Keep pushing. Keep advocating. Because giving up is not an option. Not now. Not ever.

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.

I have so much on my mind lately—so much just building up, ready to explode. Don’t keep it boiling inside, they say. Share it. Let it out. I know there are people out there who will listen when I’m ready.

But every time I think I’m ready, I end up telling the “I’m doing okay” version. The version that says, I’m hanging in there, I can handle this. When the version that really needs to come out is, I’m hanging on for dear life.

I have sat down, ready to write, so many times. And every time, I just sit there, staring at a blank page.

How do I put into words the ugly legal battle we’re going through?
How do I explain the gut-wrenching process of searching for a therapeutic school for my child—only to keep hearing, we can’t meet her needs?
How do I help my daughter through this new phase of life when I can’t even find the words to explain what she’s going through?
How do I describe the way anxiety is creeping in, making everyday life harder for one of my girls?

I don’t know how to say it all. I don’t know how to let it go because if I do, I might fall apart.

But maybe I don’t need the perfect words. Maybe just saying this is hard is enough for now. Maybe just admitting that I don’t have all the answers is the first step.

So here I am, trying. And if you’re reading this, maybe you get it. Maybe you’ve been here too. Maybe you don’t have the words either.

And maybe—for now—that’s okay.

New Year Day… a time for reflection, a moment to pause and think about the year that just came to a close. It’s also a time to set intentions for the year ahead.

As I look back on 2024, I must admit it felt like a whirlwind. There were moments when I wondered if the weight of the world was truly resting on my shoulders. I find myself asking, “Did all of that happen in just one year?” Yet, like many challenges before, I faced them head-on, doing my best to navigate the storm.

I am deeply thankful for the incredible support system that helped us through this turbulent time:

• Our new caregivers who stepped in when our long-time caregiver had to move away.
• Our dedicated advocate and attorneys who guided us through some of the most complex school issues we’ve faced for both of our girls.
• My friends and family, whose unwavering emotional support carried me through the rollercoaster of highs and lows.

While I’m relieved to bid farewell to 2024, I won’t forget the strength I gained from overcoming its challenges. There’s a saying that resonates with me: “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!”

As we step into 2025, I know it will bring its own set of challenges—some new and others lingering from the previous year. But just like before, I am determined to confront them with resilience and courage.

I wrapped up 2024 with a special activity: seeing the movie Wicked, a long-time favorite musical of mine. The song “Defying Gravity” has always held a special place in my heart. It’s my anthem—a reminder of my strength and ability to rise above life’s obstacles. As the song played, I felt a wave of emotions wash over me, crying not just from exhaustion, but from a place of pride for what I’ve endured.

Goodbye, 2024. I truly defied gravity as I tackled every challenge you threw my way. Hello, 2025! I’m ready to embrace you, even as I anxiously anticipate the light at the end of the tunnel regarding some ongoing struggles. I look forward to the adventures that await us and remain grateful for the incredible people who will stand by our side, no matter what challenges may come.

Happy New Year, everyone! Here’s to new beginnings and the courage to face whatever lies ahead!

Christmas came a couple of days early for us this year, and this early present is specifically for our incredible girl, Courtney. I haven’t held back in expressing how her needs have not been met at her current school, and the legal battle we’ve been facing has been challenging, to say the least.

Today, we received an email with the ruling. While it didn’t specify a placement for Courtney, it did bring a significant acknowledgment: Courtney has NOT been receiving the Free and Appropriate Public Education (FAPE) that every child deserves. It’s disheartening to see this from a school district that is among the highest rated in the state.

In the coming weeks, we will have another meeting with the district and more tours of potential schools. Yes, there will be more adjustments ahead for Courtney, and while these weeks may bring added stress, we truly believe that, in the end, her needs will finally be met.

I can’t express enough gratitude to all of you for being a part of #TeamCourtney and cheering us on during this fight. Your support has been nothing short of amazing.

Merry Christmas to all! Here’s to hope, resilience, and brighter days ahead for Courtney!

Christmas break has arrived. I asked Joe the other day where December went. I knew the answer. It flew by because we were consumed with a legal battle against a school district that we thought could help our daughter with severe autism thrive in the area of education. They have done everything but that. I hate that it consumed my favorite month of the year. I haven’t stopped to enjoy the hustle and bustle of this month that I usually love. I have struggled doing some of my favorite activities to celebrate the coming of Christmas with my girls. I have just begun Christmas shopping. Christmas cards? We will see if those go out. So thank you, district, for not only failing my daughter, but for stealing the joy I usually have during this month.

You can even say they are trying to steal the joy of Christmas break.

On Monday, December 23rd we expect to hear a ruling. Merry Christmas! Unfortunately this ruling, no matter what is decided, doesn’t suddenly give her a placement in a school that could hopefully meet her needs. We hope this ruling helps us continue to have a voice in where she will go to get her needs met. It’s sad that we have to fight to have a voice in that decision.

This week there was an incident that showed me just how much the district is just wanting her out. They are done. This week an adult that works with her daily had no problem making a snide remark to another staff member in front of my nanny AND Courtney about how “disappointed” they were that Courtney was at school after thinking she may be out that day. It crushes my soul that I am left to continuing to send her to a school that doesn’t see just how awesome she is.

I can’t let them steal my Christmas joy this break though. Monday will come and a decision will be shared. No matter what that decision is, there are a few things that will not change.

In our eyes, Courtney is still the most beautiful child and there is a school out there that would be lucky to have her.

We have a “village” of people standing behind us cheering us on and supporting us through this tough journey

And last and most important, we are still her advocates. We are still her voice. We are not ready to give up.

I’m not sure how to put into words what it is like to go through the fight we just went through in this past week. No parent should have to fight this hard for what a child has the right to. Unfortunately we felt we needed to and that is exactly what we did. We fought hard. We were her voice. No matter what the outcome, we know we did all that we could do to make sure her voice, her needs, and her rights was heard.

The search for a therapeutic school for my daughter, Courtney, has been eye-opening, as it has shown me the complexities of special education law and the reality of the support—or lack thereof—available for students with significant needs. More than anything, it has highlighted the struggles faced by families like ours, who are desperately seeking the right resources and advocates for their children.

Have you ever heard of the term FAPE? It stands for Free and Appropriate Public Education. Every child has the right to FAPE. EVERY child. This right should extend beyond those who fit neatly into certain categories. If a school feels unable to provide this within their public institution, they are legally bound to find an alternative placement and ensure the financial support for that student to attend. Yet, somewhere in this process, parents often lose their voice, despite being an essential part of the team. The options for educational placement shrink to almost nothing, as these schools struggle with limited space and staff. To make matters worse, private therapeutic schools can be selective about who they accept, further complicating our search.

This reality leaves students like Courtney feeling lost in a system that’s meant to support them. How can she access the education she not only deserves but also has the right to receive? Many families in similar situations find themselves pulling their children out of the school system altogether, opting for homeschooling. This decision often forces one parent to give up their job to become not just a caregiver, but also a teacher. These parents, who need a break more than anyone, suddenly bear the weight of dual responsibilities—full-time caregiver and educator. For some, the financial burden of fighting for their child’s rights simply isn’t manageable, while others find themselves backed into a corner.

How is this acceptable? How do these injustices persist, often unnoticed by the general public?

Just the other day, a phone conversation almost led us to that very crossroads. As the words “maybe we should just home school her” slipped from my lips, I felt tears welling up. My frustration with the system, the district, and the entire situation reached an all-time high. It pains me deeply to realize that our district is failing Courtney, and I refuse to accept that this is where we must settle.

But here’s the truth—we are not caving in. Homeschooling is not the answer for our family. We will continue to fight for what she has the right to receive. We will not let the system keep Courtney from the education she deserves.

To all the parents out there navigating this challenging journey, know that you are not alone. This process has made me want to come together with others, so we can raise our voices, demand change, and ensure that every child receives the support and education they are entitled to. Let’s stand strong and advocate for our children, because they are worth the fight.

As an autism mom, I often find myself caught in a whirlwind of thoughts about the unknowns. I try my best not to dwell on them, but when so many significant aspects of Courtney’s life are uncertain, it becomes a challenge to push those worries aside. Most of these uncertainties revolve around her education. I never imagined I’d be questioning Courtney’s schooling in such a well-regarded district, one of the top in the state—and almost the country. Yet here we are, wondering much longer she will be at her current school and where she will go next.

Some might say it’s a positive sign that the district recognizes they cannot meet her needs. Perhaps I’m still too frustrated with the journey we’ve taken to appreciate that perspective. If only there had been more consistency over the years—after all, Courtney had five teachers in just two years—maybe we wouldn’t be facing this situation now. But then again, who truly knows?

The real question now is: which school can best meet her needs? The uncertainty weighs heavily on my heart. We stand at a crossroads, unsure which school will come closest to providing the support she requires, especially since options for therapeutic schools with openings are limited. I don’t want to settle for a place that is merely “better than the alternative.” I want her to be somewhere that not only accepts her but also nurtures her unique strengths and helps her thrive. I dream of a school that will empower her to reach her highest potential—whatever that may look like—and guide her toward becoming a “functional” adult in this unpredictable world.

This leads me to the most daunting unknown of all: What will adulthood be like for Courtney? What will her life look like after I’m no longer here to support her? I work hard to keep those thoughts at bay, but they creep in nonetheless. Just the other day, during a visit to a restaurant she’s loved since birth, I found myself questioning whether we would ever enjoy outings as a family again since she only lasted 10 minutes. What about our cherished vacation spots?

So Many Unknowns!!!! No wonder I struggle sleeping at night!

But for now, I need to focus on the one unknown that demands my attention: finding Courtney a new school. What’s the latest update, you ask? Recently, we toured a school on Halloween that piqued our interest. While there were some concerns, there were also aspects we truly appreciated. Tomorrow, they’re coming to observe Courtney at her current school. I’m crossing my fingers and toes that it goes as it should. I hope they can see just how incredibly special she is and that they would be fortunate to welcome her into their community.

In the midst of all these uncertainties, I remind myself to hold onto hope. Each step I take, each decision I make, is a step toward a brighter future for Courtney. And while the unknowns may seem overwhelming at times, I believe that with love, determination, and the right support, we can navigate this journey together.