Living for two - HIV-positive teenage mom shares her struggles

Dear Diary,

I am an adolescent living with HIV and pursuing higher education and doing very well. I am generally a happy person, a mother and an advocate for other teenage mothers living with HIV. My life has not always been like this though.

My life as far back as I can remember was a struggle. I felt like an outsider in my family most, if not all, the time. My mother and grandmother were distant and hard to talk to, and my father was just not there. I avoided my parents and never asked any questions because I was told children should be seen and not heard.

When I passed my Grade Six Achievement Test (GSAT), I was glad. Finally, I would go to a different school and be free of my grand-mother's ridicule. I spent grades seven and eight getting A's and being a good student. One evening, when I was in grade nine, I met my child's father who came to my community to live with his sister. He was much older than I, but he seemed to understand me and made me feel like I was worth listening to.

We got really close and after a while my mother started to ask me about my relationship with him. I would always tell her we were just friends and she would say that I should be careful because he is an older man. We became inseparable and my family was not pleased. They cursed me and called me every name - from a whore to names I can't repeat.

I stopped talking to him for a while but my family did not believe. I started seeing him again. We started kissing, petting and then sex. The first time, he used a condom, but after that, he did not and I was in love so I did not ask. That month, I missed my period, did a pregnancy test and found out I was pregnant. I was only 16 years old.

He told me to keep the baby, but I did not want to have a baby at 16. The plan was that I would finish school then move in with him and his parents. That did not work out because I started showing and my aunt, who was a teacher at my high school, told the principal and every member of staff about my pregnancy.

The guidance counsellor called me to her office and told me I could not continue to come to school unless I told her who the father was. I refused and, as a result, left my high school four months before I was to sit nine Caribbean Secondary Education Certificate subjects.

At home, things were getting worse by the day. All my family had something negative to say. The evening after my talk with the counsellor, my whole family had a conference about the disgrace I brought upon them and the decision was taken that I should not be allowed to stay. I was told to pack my things and leave. I became very depressed and tried killing myself by drinking floor polish - it did not work.

I left my parents' house one Saturday at about 1 a.m. to go to my boyfriend's home. When I got there, he put me in his room and went to talk to his father about staying at the house. I sat on his bed and just felt lost and wished I had died after drinking the floor polish. From where I sat, I could hear my boyfriend's father asking him if the baby was his. He said 'yes' and he replied that we could not stay just like that because he was a deacon in church and the community would gossip. As a result, my wedding date was set.

That night, I tried killing myself again. This time, I took several pills. I remember sleeping a lot and just was not able to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. Everyone thought I was just sleeping a lot because of the pregnancy. After a week, I was back to my old stressed and unhappy self.

I could not care less whether the 'thing' inside me lived or died, but I went to the clinic as I had no choice in the matter. I was the youngest one there. My sister-in-law ushered me to a seat and when my number was called, the nurse asked me my name and age. When I told her, she looked me over from head to toe. Then she started to shout at me, telling me I was a disgrace to my family, that I was a bad girl and that was why I was in my condition. She then told me to join the line for a blood test and that it would cost me $650. I did not tell her I had no money because I was afraid of her reaction. I went in to do the blood work and I told the nurse inside that I had no money and she said it would be OK.

Life-changing news

The next month when I went back, the nurse started by asking how I was doing. I told her good then she said ok. She then informed me that I was HIV-positive and would have to change clinics. I needed to attend a specialised clinic. She then gave me an injection and my referral and sent me on my way.

I felt confused, numb, and sick to my stomach. My sister-in-law asked what was wrong and I just started to cry. She took me by the hand and I told her just as I got it from the nurse. She looked at me. I looked at her and we just dropped to the sidewalk and just sat there looking out in space for a while.

When I got home and told my boyfriend, he started crying and throwing things. After that, he grabbed me by the hand and said, "Let's go kill ourselves. There is no hope."

As time went by, I watched as he sank into depression and then declared that he was healed by the Lord Jesus Christ and I was a sinner that needed to repent and change my ways. This continued for months. We eventually got married and things still did not change. He started blaming me and his family was saying things behind my back. I tried killing the 'thing' I was carrying again, but none of us died and I was left to suffer in silence, regretting each day and crying each night.

At the Spanish Town Hospital, for the first time since being told of my status, someone treated me like a human being. The doctor held my hand and talked to me and told me I could live and my baby would not get it. Then he said if I did not stop worrying and start eating, both me and my child would die. He went on to say if not for myself, give the child I was carrying a chance at a normal life. I just sat there and cried like there was no end. He encouraged me and I started to think of my son as a human being - a part of me - someone who needed me and not as a 'thing'.

In the weeks that followed, I decided that I would fight for my son. My baby was born without HIV and nothing I did to myself affected him. When he was just three months old, my husband died, and I am left to raise my baby alone as a teenager.

We welcome comments and feedback from other teenage mothers. You can send these to info@eveforlife.org.