My husband died from AIDS- True HIV story

We were married young. We had dreams. But sickness came slowly, and one day the hospital bed was empty. He was gone. And I was left behind, pregnant, grieving, and afraid. Two months after we buried him, I went to the clinic. My stomach was growing and my heart was heavy. I needed to know if my baby was okay. The nurse asked me to do an HIV test. I said yes. When the result came back, the word hit me like stone: HIV positive. I could not breathe. All I could think was: Did he give this to me? Will I give this to my baby? I walked into the nurse’s counseling room and I broke down. I cried for a whole hour. I cried for my husband. I cried for my unborn child. I cried because I was scared of dying and leaving my baby alone. The fear of infecting my baby was the heaviest thing I have ever carried. The nurse did not tell me to stop. She let me cry. Then she stayed with me for 2 hours of medical counseling. She explained everything, slowly. She told me about ARVs. About taking medicine every day. About clinic visits. About how mothers who are faithful to treatment can give birth to healthy babies. "Sister," she said, "your husband’s story ended with AIDS. Your story and your baby’s story do not have to. You can still choose life." I left that room that day with tears on my face and hope in my chest for the first time in months. I made a promise. I would come to the clinic. I would take my medicine. No excuses. The pregnancy was not easy. But every month I was there. Every day the pills were taken. And then my son was born. The nurses watched. The doctors waited. He was born without HIV. I thank God. I thank that nurse. I thank the medicine. Today, my boy is in Grade Four. He is tall, sharp in class, and full of questions. He is healthy. He has no HIV. Every month he comes with me to the clinic. He holds my bag. He sits quietly while we collect my HIV medicine. He knows this is part of our life, and he is not ashamed. Last week the head nurse called us both to the side. She looked at my son and then at me and said, "I am so proud of you both. Look how far you have come. You are an example to this clinic." My husband died from AIDS. That is our truth. But I am living through it. My son is living through it with me. To the mothers in Papua New Guinea reading this: If you are pregnant and scared, go to the clinic today. If you test positive, do not hide. Take your medicine. There are nurses who will sit with you for 2 hours if they have to. There is help. There is life after diagnosis. AIDS took my husband. But it will not take me. And it will not take my son. This is the power of resilience and courage.