When my daughter was just three months old, I was already a firm believer in the wonders of elimination communication (EC)—a fancy term for infant potty training. We were cloth diapering, and with limited access to a laundromat, I thought this was the perfect solution. Little did I realize what I was getting myself into.
Fast forward to six months, I had become somewhat of a diaper-dryness ninja, interpreting her cues like a pro. Friends and family were impressed, and I felt like a parenting superstar. But oh, how naive I was!
At nine months, we introduced baby sign language, and suddenly, my little genius was signaling when she needed to go. “Look, everyone! She’s going to be potty trained before her first birthday!” I practically beamed with pride. But once again, I had no clue what lay ahead.
By the time she turned one, the fun began to fade. If I had shown her a sign for “leave me alone,” she would have flashed a cheeky grin instead of rushing to the potty. It was like a light bulb went off—she was no longer my cute little experiment. She was a determined toddler with her own agenda, and I was just a parent trying to keep up.
Despite my struggles, I was still singing EC’s praises to anyone who would listen, crafting sticker charts and scrubbing messes off the floor in a desperate bid to maintain the magic. I tried to avoid bribery, opting for stickers instead of candy.
As the months went on, I found myself making grocery store trips that included a detour to the candy aisle, letting her choose whatever treat would entice her to use the potty. M&M’s? Sure! Whatever it takes, right?
By age three, the diaper disasters had ceased, but she was still holding out on peeing in the toilet. I tried reason, pleading, and even some serious conversations: “Do you want to be the kid who wets herself in college?” Still, she stood firm. What had I been thinking when I decided this was a good idea?
Finally, I threw in the towel. I stopped nagging her about the potty, quit the sticker charts, and let her decide whether she wanted to wear a diaper or underwear. I felt a bit like a failure as I watched her younger friends graduate from diapers, but I didn’t let her know that.
The turning point came during a special shopping trip. We found a beautiful dress specifically for potty-trained girls, and just like that, the power struggle faded. Within two weeks, she had embraced using the toilet.
Now at four, she still fits into that dress and occasionally reminds me, “Mom, remember my potty-training dress?” Oh, believe me, I remember!
While I’ve seen friends post about their EC successes on social media, celebrating their children’s bowel movements as if they were Olympic victories, I’ve come to terms with the fact that it doesn’t work for everyone. If it’s not going well, I hope parents realize they can stop long before they reach the point of exhaustion like I did.
As for my second daughter, when people ask if I plan to do this “baby potty-training thing” again, I politely refrain from saying, “Are you kidding me?!” Instead, I simply say, “It’s too much with two kids.” After all, the first few years were a whirlwind of struggles, and I’ve learned my lesson. She will use the toilet when she’s ready—no pressure from me!
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In summary, my experience with elimination communication was a rollercoaster of expectations versus reality. While it works for some, I learned that every child is unique, and sometimes it’s best to let them take the lead on their own timeline.
Keyphrase: Elimination Communication
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