I am so thankful that Z has officially picked a college (I’ll get to that reveal in a bit). This has been a long and grueling journey. Don’t get me wrong, I have so much to be thankful for, but I am very happy to be getting off this roller coaster.

First of all, Z has always been “gifted.” I’m going to skip the part where I make a self-deprecating apology about saying that. He has a 4.8 weighted GPA and a 4.0 unweighted. He has taken eight AP classes and scored 5s (the highest score) on every one of them. His school doesn’t name a valedictorian, but Ohio awards a merit scholarship to the top 5%, so we know he is in that category. He is in National Honor Society, has done missions work, volunteer hours, and held multiple leadership roles.

He can play more instruments than I can count on one hand. And lastly, he scored a 35 on the ACT, putting him in the top 1% of test takers.

We were told he would surely get a full-ride scholarship. Not only did people tell us that, but I personally know several adults who were on similar paths and did receive full rides.

I did all the research, and Z did all the hard work. We went to college fairs and talked to representatives in person. We made him comb through every flyer that came in the mail and if you’ve ever had a senior, you know you could build a small village with all that mail. It felt like everyone wanted Z. He received small gifts, posters, and all kinds of creative promotional material.

I knew better than to be lured in by places like Harvard and Yale. They want him to apply so they can reject him and keep their acceptance rates low. But it was still fun to get stuff from the Ivies with his name on it. The possibilities felt endless. I started a spreadsheet, and we listed all the schools with potential.

He did college visits during his junior year and attended an essay bootcamp over the summer. When the Common App opened on August 1, he was ready. He applied early admission to a whopping 13 colleges. He cast a wide net, applying to target schools, reach schools, and safeties.  I truly felt like he did everything right.

Then we waited.

The offers started trickling in at around $25,000 a year. That might sound like a lot, but when it still leaves $35,000 a year to pay, it’s just not enough. He kept checking his email for scholarships, and I kept watching the mailbox for acceptance letters. He was receiving the highest levels of merit aid, and we carefully entered everything into the spreadsheet, but nothing made college even remotely affordable. I knew a full ride was unlikely, but I had hoped for at least full tuition.

Once we heard from everyone, my heart sank. This was not the outcome I had prayed for or believed would happen. I felt like I had failed Z. I was the mom who hounded him (lovingly) on essays and deadlines, assuring him it would all be worth it. And yet, even though he was offered over a million dollars in scholarships, it was spread across 13 schools and four years. The bottom line at every school was still out of reach.

Then a small private school increased his scholarship, so we attended their admitted students day and had a very positive experience. Z wasn’t completely sold, but the school encouraged him to submit an appeal, so he did. Then another school’s offer was so good it took the lead as the least expensive option. We toured that one as well, and Z fell in love. It quickly moved to the top of his list. He was encouraged to appeal there too.

At that point, he had his original top public school and three private schools offering generous merit aid. He submitted appeals to two of them and waited. When the responses came back, each school only increased their offer by $1,000 per year. And while I would happily dance all the way to the bank for $1,000 in most situations, for college, it barely moved the needle.

So last weekend, I told Z he needed to make his final decision. I gave him a firm deadline.

On that day, we went to Five Guys and even ordered milkshakes. This was supposed to be a celebration. Instead, it felt grueling. He eliminated two schools, but that still left two strong options with no clear winner. He described it as choosing between a chocolate milkshake and a strawberry milkshake. Both are good, but this decision was too important to just do eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

We went back and forth until we got home, and Z said he needed some time alone in his room. When he came out, we prayed together. Then he said it:

“I choose UC.”

I jumped up and gave him the biggest hug. I would have done that no matter what he chose. I truly was happy either way. But now I could fully embrace UC and celebrate this milestone.

I can also officially go all in on black and red grad party decorations.

Go Bearcats