I would never put my baby in the dishwasher.

But I’ve thought about it.

I’ve thought about putting the baby in all sorts of major household appliances: the washer, dryer, fridge, microwave, oven. I don’t have a trash compacter, but if I did, well, that probably would have occurred to me, too.

And I’m not particularly unusual in this regard.

I remember the first time I had a violent intrusive thought about my first baby. It happened shortly after I had brought him home. My brother and his children were just leaving from a visit. I stood at the window holding Henry up and waving goodbye. My brother turned to wave and smile back. And suddenly I thought, "What if I dashed Henry’s head against the radiator? How quickly would what happened register on David’s face? How quickly could he get in here to get the baby away from me? When would his kids realize what had happened?"

It all occurred to me in a flash. I started to sweat, my heart started to beat quickly, and I moved away from the radiator. I was horrified, ashamed, disgusted, and scared. Was I one of those crazy women? How could I have such an awful thought? And how could I protect my baby?

From there, it just got worse. And I told no one — how could I? What if they took my baby away?

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