Have you ever heard of elimination communication (EC)? I hadn’t either until I typed “diaper-free babies” into a search engine. My curiosity was piqued after chatting with some women in rural Myanmar about their approach to potty needs for their naked little ones. To my surprise, these villagers had never encountered diapers. Through a series of amusing hand signals, I learned their method: hold the babies over the ground so they can relieve themselves and simply wash their clothes if an accident occurs.
Inspired by their resourcefulness, I thought I could do the same. However, I soon realized that those tough women in the mountains of Myanmar had a resilience that I lacked. After traveling with my husband for a year, we found ourselves in Southeast Asia, where I was captivated by the sight of countless bare-bottomed babies. This fascination was partly fueled by my ambitious desire to eliminate disposable diapers from our lives.
Unbeknownst to me, a storm of challenges was brewing. Determined to implement EC for our impending arrival, I immersed myself in research, starting with “The Diaper-Free Baby,” which I devoured from cover to cover. I purchased a BabyBjörn potty seat, patting myself on the back for the savings on disposables.
Initially, it went smoothly. At just three days old, my son peed on cue when I made the familiar “psss, psss, psss” sound and directed his tiny penis toward our bathroom sink. I felt an overwhelming sense of pride and asked my husband, “Why doesn’t everyone do this?” It seemed far easier than changing diapers!
During those early months, as we transitioned from carefree travelers to exhausted parents, my greatest joy was catching my son’s waste in anything but a diaper. I reveled in demonstrating our pee-catching skills to visitors, while some friends politely smiled, and others slowly backed away. Although I refrained from holding him over trash cans in public, I didn’t hesitate to cue him in parks, on hiking trails, or over toilets in restaurant bathrooms.
Then I returned to work—strike one for EC. Soon after, he began crawling and lost interest in remaining still—strike two. Once he started eating solid foods, it was game over. My son became a pooping machine, averaging five times a day without any clear signs that he was doing so. I surrendered to the chaos, giving up on catching his messes, washing cloth diapers, and ultimately grateful for the convenience of disposable diapers. We stocked up on them at Costco.
Recently, a friend mentioned that her 13-month-old is fully potty-trained thanks to EC. Feeling a competitive urge, I dug out the BabyBjörn potty again. I sat my son on it, cued him as before, but he promptly tossed it down the stairs. I tried again with distractions, only for him to fill the potty with Legos instead.
The next morning, I attempted to hold him over the sink for nostalgia’s sake. He squirmed and babbled, ultimately soaking me and the mirror. Undeterred, I tried again later that evening. To my horror, he pooped on the kitchen floor while I was washing dishes. Calmly, I picked up the mess and quickly diapered him.
Then the smell hit me. I noticed a smear on a toy, then another, and soon it was everywhere: on his fingers, toes, and even crammed into his favorite little wicker chair. It was like a scene from a horror movie, but with poop instead of blood. After a brief panic, I whisked the contaminated toys to the sink, the baby to the bath, and cordoned off the living room until I could clean the mess. It turned out he had also soiled a corner of the carpet, which conveniently matched the shades of brown and tan.
Ultimately, I have returned to the comfort of disposable diapers, now with a newfound admiration for the women in Myanmar, who must have nerves of steel and the patience of a saint.
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In summary, while my attempt at elimination communication started with enthusiasm, it quickly devolved into chaos that led back to the familiar comfort of disposable diapers. My brief foray into EC taught me a lot about my limits and the incredible resilience of others.