In a Massachusetts courtroom, the trial of Lindsay Clancy — a mother who killed her three young children in January 2023 — has drawn the world's attention not only to a family's unimaginable loss, but to a psychiatric emergency that medicine has long struggled to name. Postpartum psychosis, a sudden and severe break from reality that can follow childbirth, remains absent from the DSM-5, the foundational text of American psychiatry, leaving clinicians undertrained, insurers uncoded, and mothers unprotected. The trial is, in this sense, larger than one family's tragedy: it is a reckoning with wh
Clancy trial shines light on postpartum psychosis, a treatable psychiatric emergency
A person can be fine and then suddenly lose touch with reality.
Why does it matter that postpartum psychosis isn't in the DSM-5? Isn't it still being treated?
It's treated when someone gets to a hospital and a good psychiatrist recognizes it. But without a name and criteria, it doesn't get taught in medical school. Doctors don't know to look for it. Insurance won't pay for it. Research doesn't happen.
So Meghan Cliffel had to figure out her own treatment?
Mostly, yes. She found therapy, found EMDR, found lithium—but by trial and error, not because there was a clear path. She said it felt like fumbling in the dark.
And that's different from other serious illnesses?
Completely. Breast cancer survivors told her there's a ladder of care, clear steps. For postpartum psychosis, there's nothing. You're on your own.
How fast does it come on?
That's the terrifying part. A woman can be fine one minute and lose touch with reality the next. Patrick Clancy said his wife was having one of her best days—they built a snowman together. By evening, the children were dead.
Is it common?
No. It's rare. But when it happens, it's a psychiatric emergency. And most women recover if they get treatment. The tragedy is that Clancy's case is an outlier.
What would change if it got into the DSM-5?
Everything. Medical schools would teach it. Insurance would cover it. Researchers would study it. Clinicians would know what to look for. Families would know what to watch for. You'd have a real system instead of luck.
El Pulso
- Lindsay Clancy warned her family a month before the deaths that she was having thoughts of harming her children — a cry for help that the medical system had no clear pathway to answer.
- Postpartum psychosis can strike with terrifying speed, turning a woman who spent the morning building a snowman with her children into someone entirely unmoored from reality by nightfall.
- The condition is absent from the DSM-5, meaning medical students never learn it, insurers cannot code for it, and research funding rarely reaches it — a structural silence that experts call a systemic failure.
- Survivors like Meghan Cliffel recovered fully with lithium and therapy, but only after stumbling through a system with no ladder of care, forced to piece together her own treatment in the dark.
- Psychiatrists and advocates are now pressing for formal DSM-5 classification, arguing that naming the illness is the first and most essential step toward building the care systems that could prevent future tragedies.
In a Massachusetts courtroom, the trial of Lindsay Clancy — a mother who killed her three young children in January 2023 — has drawn the world's attention not only to a family's unimaginable loss, but to a psychiatric emergency that medicine has long struggled to name. Postpartum psychosis, a sudden and severe break from reality that can follow childbirth, remains absent from the DSM-5, the foundational text of American psychiatry, leaving clinicians undertrained, insurers uncoded, and mothers unprotected. The trial is, in this sense, larger than one family's tragedy: it is a reckoning with what happens when a treatable illness is allowed to remain invisible.
A month before the deaths, Lindsay Clancy told her mother and husband that she was having thoughts of harming her children. She kept saying, "This isn't me" — and those who knew her agreed. But in January 2023, her husband Patrick came home to find their three children dead: Cora, five; Dawson, three; and Callan, eight months old. Clancy had attempted suicide. Her defense does not dispute what happened. It argues she was in the grip of postpartum psychosis — a psychiatric emergency so sudden that on the very day of the killings, her husband described her as having one of her best days. They had built a snowman together.
Postpartum psychosis is rare but devastating. It arrives with mood swings, insomnia, and a delirium-like state, but its defining feature is a complete break from reality — hallucinations, delusions, the collapse of what is true. Between 1 and 4 percent of women with the condition harm or kill children; most recover. Meghan Cliffel was eight months postpartum in 2015 when she became convinced strangers were following her and that her husband was part of a conspiracy against her. Within 24 hours, she was hospitalized. She spent 12 days in psychiatric care, then underwent therapy and took lithium for a year. She recovered fully. When she had a third child, she began lithium immediately after birth as a precaution — a strategy that worked, but one she had to discover entirely on her own.
That is the structural wound at the center of this story. Postpartum psychosis is not classified in the DSM-5, the handbook that defines psychiatric illness for American medicine. Without a formal classification, it does not appear in medical school curricula, cannot be coded by insurers, and rarely attracts research funding. Veerle Bergink, director of the Mount Sinai Women's Mental Health Center, has made its inclusion a cause: "You can only investigate and talk about the disease if you give the disease a name." Cliffel called the omission an erasure — of her experience, and of countless others who have had to navigate a serious illness without a map.
The Clancy trial has forced postpartum psychosis into public consciousness in a way that years of quiet advocacy could not. Experts and survivors see it as a turning point — a chance to push for DSM-5 recognition, to train clinicians, and to build a real system of care for mothers in crisis. Maternal mental health complications are the most common complication of childbirth. That the most severe among them remains unnamed in medicine's central text is, as the conversation around this trial makes plain, a failure the field can no longer afford to ignore.
Lindsay Clancy told her mother and husband a month before it happened: she was having thoughts of harming her children. Her mother, Paula Musgrove, testified this week that Lindsay kept saying the same thing over and over—"This isn't me, I've never been like this before"—and her mother agreed. She wasn't herself. But by January 2023, when Clancy's then-husband Patrick came home from getting dinner for the family, he found their three children dead: Cora, five; Dawson, three; and Callan, eight months old. Clancy was injured from a suicide attempt. She is not disputing that she killed them. Her defense argues she was suffering from postpartum psychosis—a psychiatric emergency so sudden and severe that a person can appear fine one moment and lose touch with reality the next.
Postpartum psychosis is rare but devastating. It arrives with mood swings, insomnia, and a delirium-like state, but its defining feature is psychosis itself: hallucinations, delusions, the complete unmooring from what is real. A woman hears voices that aren't there. She believes things that contradict all evidence and her own culture. In severe cases—uncommon ones, experts stress—she may harm herself or others. On the day Clancy killed her children, her husband said she was having one of her best days. They built a snowman together. Everything seemed better. That sudden swing, that light-switch quality, is what makes the illness so dangerous and so hard to predict.
Meghan Cliffel was eight months postpartum when it happened to her. It was a Friday in 2015, and she had just finished work in New York City. She became convinced people were following her, that she was being recruited into a cult, that the world—including her own husband—was conspiring against her and her daughters. Within 24 hours, she was handcuffed to a gurney and admitted to a psychiatric hospital. She spent 12 days there. Susan Hatters-Friedman, a forensic psychiatry professor at Case Western Reserve University, explained to the BBC that psychiatric symptoms like Cliffel's can appear with terrifying speed. That is why it must be treated as a medical emergency. A person can be fine and then suddenly not be.
The condition is treatable. Lithium, a mood stabilizer, is commonly prescribed. Antipsychotic medications, electroconvulsive therapy, and hospitalization are also used depending on the patient. Cliffel went to therapy, underwent EMDR—a type of psychotherapy—and took lithium for a full year. She recovered. Research shows that between 1 and 4 percent of women with postpartum psychosis harm or kill children. Clancy's case is an outlier, experts said. Most women get better.
But there is a structural problem that may be making the illness harder to catch and treat. Postpartum psychosis is not formally classified in the DSM-5, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders—the handbook that defines psychiatric illness for the American medical establishment. Without that classification, it does not appear in medical school textbooks. Students do not learn about it. Clinicians do not recognize it. Insurance does not code for it. Research does not get funded. Veerle Bergink, director of the Mount Sinai Women's Mental Health Center, is working to change that. "You can only investigate and talk about the disease if you give the disease a name, and if it has criteria," she said. "So you don't get research funded, there is no money, there is no care system, there is no insurance code."
Cliffel called the omission "bananas." It feels like an erasure, she said—the erasure of her own experience, and of countless others. She found her treatment by accident, fumbling in the dark. There was no ladder of care, no clear steps like there are for breast cancer or other serious illnesses. She had to piece it together herself. When she had a third child, she began taking lithium immediately after birth and continued for a full year, a precaution that worked. But she should not have had to discover that on her own.
The Clancy trial has brought postpartum psychosis into public view at last. Experts and survivors alike see it as a moment to push for formal recognition in the DSM-5, to educate clinicians and families, to build a real system of care. "Maternal mental health issues are the most common complication of childbirth," Cliffel said. The fact that one of the most serious of those complications remains unnamed in medicine's central diagnostic manual is, by any measure, a failure. The trial is approaching its one-month mark. The conversation about what postpartum psychosis is, and what it demands of us, is only beginning.
Citas Notables
This isn't me, I've never been like this before.— Lindsay Clancy, to her mother about her thoughts of harming her children
You can only investigate and talk about the disease if you give the disease a name, and if it has criteria. So you don't get research funded, there is no money, there is no care system, there is no insurance code.— Veerle Bergink, director of Mount Sinai Women's Mental Health Center