Suicide is often a puzzle to those of us who have never tried it. The biggest puzzle for me, especially since I became a mother, has been how a mother could intentionally, permanently separate herself from her child or children? We know as mothers that we are capable of withstanding great pain for the good of our progeny -- do we not become mothers through hours of pain? So how could emotional pain ever be so bad that a woman is willing to leave her child alone in the world in order to end it?

The book Finding Iris Chang , by Paula Kamen, helped clear away some of that mystery for me. The book investigates the conditions of and the probable causes of the suicide of Chang, a phenomenally successful young author and activist. Her most famous book, The Rape of Nanking, was made into a documentary last year.

When Chang died in 2004, I was especially shaken to read that she had a son, almost 3 years old. I had recently become a mother myself, and I was alarmed that any force existed that could be strong enough to sever the bond I felt to my child. I was also shaken by the worry that this death had resulted from Chang's attempt to "have it all" -- to pursue a high-level writing career while raising a small child. I was a writer who had recently gone back to work after maternity leave. Could this happen to me?

Four years later, I read Kamen's book and put a name to the force that killed Chang: mental illness, more specifically, bipolar disorder. Kamen, like me, worries at first that Chang's death was the kind of thing that could happen to any of us if we pushed ourselves too hard. But her research exposes the lie of this line of thinking: suicide is not something that happens to just anyone. Overwhelmingly, it happens ot those who are mentally ill.

In her final weeks, it turned out, the brilliant scholar and committed mother was not just overworked by her dual role, she was experiencing psychosis. She was wrapped up in anxiety over myriad conspiracy theories she'd read about online, staying up nights consumed not just by work but by fears that she'd given her son autism with vaccines, and that there was an international government conspiracy against her personally. Given the controversial subjects of her writing, that last one is not so far-fetched as it sounds. And yet Kamen finds no evidence that it was real.

Chang seemed to believe what victims of severe post-partum depression sometimes believe: That her child would actually be better off without her. Considering that losing a mother is one of the worst possible things that can happen to a child, this belief as much as anything helps me understand that mothers who take their lives are almost always out of touch with reality. Indeed, the book explains that attempting suicide is not such an extreme, unusual act if you suffer from the disorder Chang did -- 50% of bipolar sufferers do it, compared to just 20% of people are diagnosed as depressed but not bipolar.

Kamen also delves into the effect that hormonal fertility treatments can have on women who already have or are vulnerable to mental illness. This was new information to me and something I think all women considering such treatment should know.

Kamen was a friend of Chang's, and writes from this perspective. Because of that, the book is also an interesting look at how little we sometimes know even longtime friends, and how much can be hidden beneath the veneer of an apparently perfect life.

The book's coming out in paperback next week. It's a bit too sad to be a good stocking stuffer, but I'd recommend it to any parent who has wondered as I have how parents who love their children could willingly leave them through death.

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