Mum, I Want to Be Toilet Trained

There are some stories that feel almost too personal to tell.

The kind you wonder whether you should share at all.

This is one of them.

Before publishing this blog, I read it to Asaf and asked his permission. This is his story as much as it is mine.

He thought for a moment before typing:

"I want to contribute to other people. I am alive today to keep trying, developing and growing, so that others can learn from my experience and my journey."

That was all the permission I needed.

I also believe that if sharing this story helps even one family see new possibilities, then it is worth telling.

Like many autistic children with significant motor challenges, toilet training was never straightforward for Asaf.

When he was younger, we tried several times without success.

Then, when he was ten years old, a new headteacher arrived at his school with a very different mindset.

She believed there was no such thing as "impossible."

The school brought in an ABA specialist who spent almost ten months preparing Asaf before they even began working on using the toilet itself. Slowly, patiently, and with remarkable persistence, Asaf learned.

He was never toilet trained at night, but during the day he became largely independent.

Then everything changed.

When Asaf moved to a residential hostel, he developed significant stomach issues.

The decision was made to put him back into diapers while those issues were being managed.

But even after his stomach problems were resolved, nothing changed.

No one ever tried to help him return to underwear or regain the independence he had worked so hard to achieve.

Years of progress quietly disappeared.

For a long time, I accepted that this was simply the way things had to be.

Then, about six months ago, during one of our conversations, Asaf wrote:

"I want to try to toilet train myself again."

For the first time, this wasn't my goal for Asaf.

It was Asaf's goal for himself.

Everything changed.

Together with his day centre, we made a plan.

I have to admit, it was much harder than I expected.

The process required consistency. Asaf doesn't yet initiate going to the bathroom himself. Someone needs to prompt him regularly and support him through the routine.

Even then, he often refused to sit on the toilet.

And when he did, nothing happened.

It was easy to feel as though we weren't getting anywhere.

Then, about two months ago, some of Asaf's friends began talking about going on holiday with their parents.

Asaf wanted to go too.

If I'm honest, my first reaction wasn't excitement.

It was fear.

How could I take him abroad if he wasn't toilet trained?

So I shared those fears with him.

His response stopped me in my tracks.

"I told you I wanted to toilet train, and you've not done anything to help me. Is this my fault? Will I be blamed?"

I remember reading those words and feeling my heart sink.

He was right.

He had already told me what he wanted.

He had already asked for our help.

And somehow, despite all my love and good intentions, I still hadn't understood how important this goal was to him.

That moment changed me.

I arranged a meeting with Asaf's day centre to discuss how we could better support his toilet training.

During that meeting, I discovered something that completely shocked me.

Asaf was already using the toilet there.

I came home and said to him,

"If you can do it there, then I believe you can do it here too."

Around that time, we also welcomed a new caregiver into our home.

From the very beginning, I made one thing clear.

Helping Asaf achieve his goal of becoming toilet trained had become one of our highest priorities.

Since then, something remarkable has begun to happen.

Asaf still needs us to prompt him to go to the bathroom every couple of hours.

He still doesn't initiate those trips independently.

There are still times when his body doesn't give him enough warning.

We are not at the finish line.

But today, he succeeds the majority of the time.

Something fundamental has changed.

This is no longer a goal that belongs to us.

It belongs to him.

Looking at Asaf now, I realise that real progress only began when several things came together.

He believes he can do it.

He is becoming more aware of the signals his body is giving him.

His motivation comes from within.

And he is surrounded by people working alongside him towards a goal that he chose.

After his birthday, I asked Asaf what he wished for himself in the coming year.

One of the first things he wrote was:

"I want to be completely toilet trained."

For the first time, I didn't hear an impossible dream.

I heard determination.

I don't know how long this journey will take.

I don't know exactly what independence will look like for Asaf.

But today, more than anything else, I simply believe in him.

Asaf has proven to me once again that extraordinary things become possible when someone is given the opportunity to pursue goals that matter to them.

When he believes in himself, what once seemed impossible often becomes the next step in his journey.

And I have every intention of walking that journey beside him.