My Second Chance

I was so excited! After experiencing a miscarriage just months before, we were pregnant! I was due to deliver my baby in May. I went for my prenatal doctor visit and all was well. At that time, I was informed that it was mandatory to all pregnant woman to have an HIV test. Actually, I could be tested then or wait until I gave birth and then have the baby tested. Naturally, I consented to the test. I was not in any high-risk groups for HIV. I never gave it another thought.

The phone rang at my home a couple of weeks later. My doctor was on the line. He asked me to come in to the office. For some reason that escapes me, I wasn’t able to. I remember a feeling of dread. I asked him if there was a problem. I remember him saying something to the effect of he didn’t want to do this over the phone. My feeling of dread increased. I told him it was ok to tell me. Please tell me. So, over the telephone I heard these words: “Your lab tests have come back.” I’m afraid you tested positive for HIV.” I thought I heard him wrong. I was numb with shock and crying out to my husband. “What, my husband asked?” I stammered something to him, I don’t even remember what I said. I was sobbing as I hung up the phone. I was three months pregnant and HIV positive.

My first, my very first thought, was that I was going to die. My baby and I were going to die. I cried like I have never cried before. How could this be? There has to be a mistake. Surely this is some mix-up. There was no mistake. There was no mix-up. I eventually went into the office and talked with my doctor. He was wonderful. He referred me to people who are knowledgeable about HIV. These professionals were able to reassure me that I wasn’t going to die. But what about my baby, I asked? Should I have him? What is the right thing to do? I was sad, confused and scared. This just couldn’t be real.

I was started on medication while carrying my baby. I was told I would have to have a cesarean and would not be able to breast feed, as HIV is transmitted both through the birth canal and breast milk. My son, once born, would be given medication and would also have to have his blood drawn for three months after birth to be sure he wasn’t carrying my antibodies. After three months, I was told my antibodies should be out of his system. I think that was the hardest part of all – holding my newborn in my arms while someone poked him with a needle to draw blood. I cried each time along with him.

It has now been eight years since that fateful evening. I did not die, nor did my baby. My son is now a healthy, happy seven year old. He does not have the HIV virus.

My son actually saved my life, though he is not aware of this. I was given a second chance at life because of my pregnancy. Had I not become pregnant, I more than likely would not have had the HIV test and never known I was positive until I became symptomatic. I could have had a much more serious outcome. I could have become sick. Thankfully, I am one of the lucky ones.

I have become much more educated about HIV since that fateful night. I now know it is not the death sentence I thought it was. But, when the doctor spoke those words to me, in my heart and in my mind, the only thing I could think was that I was going to die.

Since then, I have maintained my health, am raising my son with my devoted husband and am trying to live each day as it comes. Facing death, or even the thought of death, has changed me forever. I am now thankful for each day I’m alive.