Three children were dead, allegedly killed by their mother in the minutes it took the father to run two quick errands. One of her sons was a little older than my daughter; they could’ve been in the same class. A few days after I gave birth to my daughter, I had an epiphany: My husband was dangerous. The man I’d loved for nine years had eagerly doted on our baby girl since I gave birth. My husband took me to a suburban emergency room recommended by my psychiatrist, and doctors transferred me to the hospital’s psychiatric unit.