It is not as if somebody said there would be no miracle. (First Person).

I was born and brought up in a wealthy and educated family. My father is a military pilot, my mother a teacher. Thanks to my mother, the atmosphere at home was always calm and easy, and my father could often find some interesting activities and entertainment for us. I was a sociable and lively child with an inquiring mind, and I had many friends and close acquaintances. As I was growing up, I explored the world and was convinced that whatever might happen, I would have the support of my family.

After finishing high school, I chose the Institute myself. The competition was tough, but I used all my energy and spent 15 to 16 hours a day studying. And I was successful! While at the Institute, I decided then that I would have my own family only when I was able to support myself. I never discussed or condemned other points of view concerning this issue, but I was firmly convinced that my child would be born in a wealthy environment.

Having graduated, I decided to go to Kiev where, I believed, there were many more chances of finding a good job in the capital. While searching for a job, I needed somewhere to live and something to eat, so I earned a living whenever possible: I worked as a waitress, bartender and salesperson. My parents didn't support me much as they understood that I had to make it on my own. A year later, I found what I was looking for: a job in my professional field; young and interesting colleagues; an opportunity to show my worth; and a substantial salary (even by Ukrainian standards).

Not completely believing in my happiness, I rushed into this whirligig. Then I got acquainted with my future husband and after one year we got married. Six months later, I discovered I was pregnant. My family, friends and acquaintances were very happy for me, as everything happened as I had dreamed. I was very proud of myself and was sure that I deserved this happiness.

I registered at the Women Consultancy, a maternity clinic for antenatal care, but didn't take the necessary tests because of a lack of time. I took them around the sixth month of my pregnancy but ignored having an HIV test. Why should I? How could I contract HIV? However, the nurse said she would use the blood drawn in one syringe for several tests: PW (for syphilis), blood group, rhesus factor and HIV. After two weeks, I was asked to repeat the analysis because they said the result was positive. Interestingly, I did not react at that time as I thought that in my country nothing was ever done in a normal way without some confusion. I gave blood once more and waited for the results. For almost a month, there was no response. I started getting nervous. I feared that a negative diagnosis would come late and that all the maternity houses would refuse to register me because of this wrong diagnosis.

So I decided not to wait any longer and went with my husband to an anonymous centre where we both took the tests. In a week, I received the confirmation at the doctor's clinic. I was in disbelief. This could not be true. This was just a mistake. Maybe my pregnancy caused the positive result. But the doctor's next statement came like a snow avalanche: "Your husband has the same result." I left the room and went out not knowing where I was going. I was so thunderstruck that I did not notice the time, and returned home late and tired. My husband happily met me with a festively laid table. It was our wedding anniversary.

The next day, I told him everything and his reaction was similar to mine. We discussed our situation and decided for the time being to conceal everything from our relatives and friends. How could our parents help us in this situation? Would they look at us and realize that their children would die before them, and nothing could be done? For them, this would be a long-drawn torture. We also didn't inform our friends because they might blab out everything to our parents.

The next morning I woke up with a feeling of complete apathy towards myself and my surroundings. Suddenly, I felt the baby moving in my womb like a rush of current. Then I thought that I, an adult strong woman, was just lying there and pitying myself, but my unborn child didn't want to give up. So I got up and went to the AIDS Centre. The doctor told me about AZT (Azytomidin)--a drug for prevention of mother-to-child HIV transmission. We bought some AZT and were also lucky to get some for free from the AIDS Centre. I also received a course of antiretroviral therapy.

In order to increase the probability that the baby would be born healthy, I had to have a caesarean section. However, I was firmly rejected in the maternity house when my diagnosis became known. They said: "When labour starts, call for an ambulance. You must not spread the virus here." They threw me out and I dragged myself home as I was in the 43rd week of pregnancy (usually a baby is born in the 42nd week). On hearing this, the AIDS Centre's gynaecologist called the maternity house to find out what right they had to refuse me. Nevertheless, I managed to get into the maternity house, but nothing went smoothly. They said I had lice and they put me in an inspection room on a sofa with no mattress. It was winter and although there were heaters in the wards, it was 80[degrees] C in the room. I spent two days more there under these conditions and was firmly forbidden to leave. When I was caught making a telephone call, they scolded me and told me I was spreading infection around the maternity house. They examined my arms, legs, groin, armpits, neck and even my mouth, trying to find out which drug I injected and where in my body.

They discovered nothing, but remained convinced that I was a drug user and therefore infected with HIV. I took all these in dull silence, as I knew I needed help from a specialist to reduce the baby's risk of infection. I thought that sooner or later I would have my baby, take it home and all the horror and humiliation would end. The delivery did not take long, but there were disruptions as the baby was huge--4.5 kilograms in weight and 58 centimetres tall. I was placed in a common ward and prohibited from disclosing my HIV status, but at each visit the doctors emphasized what sort of disease I had. I said nothing but everyone had guessed it, so I found myself in a rather unpleasant situation: the only person in the ward with HIV.

When I returned home, I devoted myself completely to bringing up and caring for my son--a healthy and strong boy. Vitya is now ten months old and was tested for antibodies when he was three months and again eight months old. The results are still positive, but I am firmly convinced that before he is two, he will be taken off the register in the AIDS Centre. 1 permit myself no other thoughts.

Looking back at my life, I clearly see that it is divided into two parts: "before" and "after". Now that I have completely changed my attitude towards my HIV diagnosis, I have totally re-evaluated my future life, my behaviour and point of view. When I realized that I would live for less time than my contemporaries, instead of asking, "Why did this happen to me?" I asked myself, "How should I live in order to give all my love to my son, husband and parents in these several years that have been provided to me by destiny?" Therefore, I didn't fall into depression, or start abusing alcohol or drugs. There was no place for that in my life. I want my friends and parents to remember me as joyous and kind to people, a person who loved life and her place in life. I learnt to notice the pleasant trivia of life--songs of the birds, laughter of a child--and feel happy about this.

Usually people my age do not consider all these as being important. I don't complain about what had happened to me. On the contrary, I am grateful for having the years ahead, and I value them. So many people die in catastrophes and wars, not having enjoyed the life they were granted, not having managed to say goodbye to their relatives and friends. But I will have time to bring up a grandson for my parents. I will leave to them somebody to whom they could give their love when I am gone.

I always dreamt of having two children. When I see my son growing up, I find myself thinking of having another baby. But the disease gives me no opportunity to be in control of my life. I cannot decide if I have the right to give birth to one more human being. On the one hand, my son will have a brother or sister; on the other hand, will I have enough time to bring them up until they are at least teenagers, so that I do not leave my parents responsible for my small children? Therefore, it is most likely that everything will stay as it is.

Now I live, and I will enjoy my life until the disease develops. [am bringing up my son, planning to start working and providing support to the girls who are in the same situation as I. But I am still depressed. I know that there is no cure for AIDS yet and it isn't foreseen in the near future, but in the depth of my soul, I still unconsciously hope for a miracle. I hope that medication will be invented, and will rescue other people and me. It is not as if some body said there would be no miracle.

P.S. I intentionally didn't say how I was infected--I just don't know. As a senior student in the Institute, I supported myself working as a nurse and sometimes pricked my fingers with a used needle. Several years ago, I had an operation that required a blood transfusion. Before meeting my husband, he lived with a woman who was divorced from her husband because of his addiction to drugs. Any of these could have been the source of my infection.

The author of this article, written for the Chronicle, has chosen to remain anonymous.

Adults and children estimated to be living with HIV/AIDS as of end of
2002

North America                  980,000
Western Europe                 570,000
Eastern Europe & Central Asia  1.2 million
East Asia & Pacific            1.2 million
Caribbean                      440,000
North Africa & Middle East     550,000
South & South-East Asia        6 million
Latin America                  1.5 million
Sub-Saharan Africa             29.4 million
Australia & New Zealand        15,000

Total                          42 million

Estimated number of adults and children newly infected with HIV during
2002

North America                  45,000
Western Europe                 30,000
Eastern Europe & Central Asia  250,000
East Asia & Pacific            270,000
Caribbean                      60,000
North Africa & Middle East     83,000
South & South-East Asia        700,000
Latin America                  150,000
Sub-Saharan Africa             3.5 million
Australia & New Zealand        500

Total                          5 million