I was an expat in Bangkok when I became pregnant with my first child. Like many first-time moms, I wanted a non-medicated birth: I hired a doula, coached my husband on pain relief techniques, and planned to breastfeed immediately following delivery. What I got was a failed induction followed by a C-section. My daughter was immediately whisked away to the nursery, while I was put under general anesthesia for reasons I still don?t understand. 
Nauseous and woozy, I lay alone in recovery for hours before I finally got to hold my daughter. I wasn?t allowed to sit up or turn to the side for 24 hours, so I learned to breastfeed lying flat on my back. The tight binding of my incision left me in agonizing pain, and my husband had to do everything from changing our daughter?s diapers to soothing her and bathing her. When we were finally released from the hospital five days later, my faith in my body, my doctors, and my ability to mother was badly shaken. So when I started experiencing frightening thoughts about my baby shortly after we returned home, I didn’t know what to do next.  Initially, the thoughts seemed typical of an anxious, new mother: On our first few outings, I fretted that strangers might grab my baby as we strolled the crowded sidewalks; or I?d sometimes lie awake at night analyzing the sound of her breathing, spooked by stories of SIDS and overheating. But a few weeks postpartum, as sleep-deprivation started to take a toll, the ideas changed?I wasn?t just afr...