You stayed on a waitlist for months. Then you became the referee.

The letter

You stayed on a waitlist for months. Then you became the referee.

You stayed on a waiting list for months only to end up playing referee with fragmented care. You have six different treatment plans, and getting the people who wrote them to speak to each other is pulling teeth.

We sit them at one table. That is what we solved.

The pile on the passenger seat is real: plans, an IEP, evals. Six names. Those six people have never sat in the same room. You became the translator because there was no one else to be it.

I have sat on the other side of that binder.

I am Ashleigh Dominguez. I am a Board Certified Behavior Analyst in Atlanta. I have spent six years on the other side of that binder — not as a parent posting a review. As the clinician in the building, watching a family get told “you’re on the list,” and then, months later, “here are three more people who do not talk to each other. You can hold that.”

I also come from sales and marketing. Which is why I will not sell you a mill of hours and call it a start.

I built Roundtable Care because the waitlist is not a plan. Neither is six providers who have never met.

One scene.

Let me sit in one scene with you. You do not need to tell me a diagnosis for this to be true.

School pickup. The binder is on the passenger seat because speech is in one building, behavior is in another, and OT is “when a slot opens.” At the red light you flip a page. One note is fading a prompt the other person just added. School is writing toward a goal the clinic has never seen. You are the only person who has read both pages. That is how you got promoted to a job that does not exist.

That is the week. I am not going to vitamin it.

The industry failure is simple. They call a waitlist a start. Then they staff the hours, and they never staff the table. Authorization is not a start date. “We’ll add OT later” is not a team. A second opinion that never sits with you is another PDF.

A longer waitlist with a nicer name is not a cheaper version of that. It is the same thing.

The cost is not only months. Months are what people say because months sound like patience. The cost is the year you spend becoming a project manager instead of a parent — and the year the people on the list spend writing goals that never had to agree.

If that is your week, keep reading. If you need a high-volume mill, I will say so, and I will not be offended if you leave. If you need company before you need a season of care, I will send you there on purpose.

Here is what changes.

We meet you at the start. The team is already in the room.

One table. Five seats with the family: BCBA, SLP, OT, MHC, and a Care Navigator. That is the whole picture. Not a roster you assemble after the fact.

The first sitting is with all of us, and with you. We do not start speech and promise the rest when the waitlist moves. We write one plan from what is actually breaking at home — mornings, bedtime, school, the grocery store — not three plans you are supposed to stitch together after you park.

You leave with a team that already agrees. Not homework to make them agree.

Most families have five therapists pulling in five directions. In week one we put everyone at the same table. Same plan. Same outcomes. That is when the chaos stops. Fourteen weeks. Tables at one, seven, and thirteen. Week fourteen you leave with peace and a treatment plan. We sit. We work. We sit again. You are not the referee.

Who is speaking.

Six years as a BCBA. I lived the fragmented system as the clinician inside it. I watched good people, in good licenses, never sit down together, and I watched parents get praised for “advocating” when what they were doing was unpaid case management. I did not like selling that as care. Sales and marketing is in my background, which means I know what a funnel looks like, and I know when a clinic is using one to hide a waitlist. I will not do that to you.

I do not have a row of parent testimonials on this page. I will not invent them. Cohort 1 has not sat yet. Anyone who tells you a story about a child they have not served is not someone you want at the table.

Who this is for. Who it is not.

Cohort 1 is forty families. Georgia and Florida. October 5, 2026 is the fill date. We sit when the table is full. Seats are limited because the table is real. An endless caseload is how families get put back on a waitlist with a nicer name.

How families fund the table.

I am not putting a dollar amount on this page. That is not the official plan, and you should not have to hunt a number before you know what the table is.

It is not a miracle. I will not guarantee an outcome. BACB does not let me, and I would not if they did.

If you are done waiting, sit down with us.

Book a Care Mapping call. Forty-five minutes. Camera on. A conversation, not a portal. The button on this page is the booker. We map what is actually breaking at home, and whether a table that already sits together is the right next thing. We do not collect health information on this page.

If you would rather write first: hello@roundtablecare.com.

If a cohort is more than you can take on right now, you still should not sit alone in the wait. Beyond the Waitlist is the community and the education — parent training, other families, no sales pitch required. beyondthewaitlist.com.

The waitlist is not a plan. The binder is not a team. You were not hired for this.

If you want the table, book the call. If you want company, go to the room. Either way, stop pretending the binder was the start.

Ashleigh Dominguez, BCBA

Founder, Roundtable Care · Atlanta