Postpartum OCD

One afternoon in January 2013, I gave birth to a beautiful daughter. My husband and I were overjoyed, blissful as we marveled at her every move. That night, as we tried to rest, I had a peculiar thought: what if I were to throw my daughter down the spiral staircase in our home? Ashamed, I told a nurse. She kindly suggested that I was exhausted from labor and should get some sleep. She would take care of our baby for the night. The next day, a social worker visited us and became the first of many professionals to help me understand what I came to know as postpartum obsessive-compulsive disorder, or PPOCD. These intrusive thoughts continued. In the kitchen, I imagined stabbing my baby with a knife. In the bathroom, I pictured myself drowning her. In a parking lot, I imagined leaving her on t...