"And one day I woke up and suddenly found myself on the toilet with my newborn in my arms at 5 a.m., the house quiet. The door to the bathroom wasn't closed, but I had this vision of my newborn's someday-toddler fingers wiggling through the gap under the door, asking where I was. Asking if I was going Number One or Number Two."
"I couldn't imagine a future where I'd be able to use the bathroom without my child; after all, he had accompanied me during every toilet trip for the last nine months and then, once he was air-side, he came with me 90% of the time anyway. I just kind of accepted it, that I couldn't even use the toilet alone, and I relished the downy hairs on my newborn's forehead as he lay cradled in my lap."
A mother remembers her children's constant neediness, with fingers demanding attention at all moments. She longs for privacy, especially to use the bathroom alone. One morning she finds herself on the toilet at 5 a.m. holding her newborn and imagines future toddler fingers under the door. She accepts the loss of solitary bathroom time and savors the newborn's softness. Two years later, with two boys, both frequently in the bathroom, she improvises by placing a baby bouncer near the tub and tolerating the toddler wandering in while she sits on the toilet.
Read at BuzzFeed
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