OCD is of course very rule-bound and in treatment we try to help people experience that flexibility is more helpful, and that deviating from rules isn’t dangerous or irresponsible.”įor me, nap time was, still is, especially triggering. How could I maintain one while not letting the other overwhelm?ĭr Fiona Challacombe, senior clinician at the Maudsley Centre for Anxiety Disorders and Trauma and patron of Maternal OCD, says: “Approaching anything very rigidly generally makes it more difficult. It was around this time that we tried to get my son into a more consistent routine and, by the time he turned a year old, I found myself struggling to balance, or differentiate between, his need for precision and my OCD’s brutal, unreasonable demand for it. It’s insidious like that, as if you’re being gaslit by your own brain. I couldn’t tell you when the OCD began to creep back in. The intrusive thoughts receded and we settled into life as a new family. I was also offered CBT but turned it down – with a baby to care for, I didn’t think I had time. In the weeks after I returned from hospital, I sought help and was prescribed Sertraline, a breastfeeding-friendly antidepressant. Chloe Hamilton initially suffered a relapse of her OCD in the days and weeks after her son was born (Photo: Supplied) In the hospital, so afraid was I that I’d intentionally snap my son’s neck, I left him mewling in his crib and walked around the ward by myself, passing bays of crying mothers and babies, trying desperately to shake away the image of his tiny, trusting body limp in my arms. ![]() In the days and weeks after my son was born – while he was still floppy and vulnerable – I experienced postpartum intrusive thoughts. Perhaps unsurprisingly, though, due to the upheaval of welcoming a newborn – not to mention the chaos of hormones surging through my body post-birth – I suffered a relapse after having my son in November 2021. I received treatment – a combination of cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) and medication – for a year and found I was able to manage the condition well. At my lowest point, I was taking hundreds of photos of the cooker before work, and asked my sister to hide all the knives in our house, so vivid were my violent intrusive thoughts – a wickedly cruel but lesser known feature of OCD. I was first diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) back in 2015, triggered by a period of intense change. All while my son waits and watches as the rain, heavier now, begins to gather in the folds of his coat. He giggles, apparently amused, as I turn away from him for the third time that morning, open my front door and run upstairs, darting from room to room to make sure everything is as it should be: taps off, straighteners off, windows closed, doors closed, baby gates shut, plugs unplugged and sockets switched off.ĭownstairs, I recheck the kitchen sink, the oven, the lights, the downstairs baby gate, my dog’s crate. ![]() It’s chilly out and has started to drizzle, the light raindrops falling on his eyelashes and then dripping, slowly, down his cheek. My son stares up at me from his pushchair, which is parked outside our front door.
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