Column
By 'Rolake Odetoyinbo
Having a child was always my desire. I prayed, fasted and wept my eyes out as I pleaded with God to have mercy on me. He heard my prayers in 1996 when I had got pregnant during my honeymoon. I lost the baby, and spent the entire of 1997 waiting. It seemed even longer each month because my neighbors scrutinized me. Some even offered kind advice, such as telling me to buy fruits for all the children in the neighborhood so the god of the children will be appeased. Because I grew up believing and seeing saara (appeasement) as a fetish thing, I discarded that counsel. When a few close friends dared to ask what my husband and I we were waiting for, the answer was always that we had decided to wait one year after the wedding before trying for a baby. Nine months after I got married, I lived in the same house with someone very concerned and anxious to be a grandmother. It wasn't easy to act unperturbed. Together we did the hospital rounds and I visited with a specialist, who ordered all the tests in the books. Finally, we got a zillion possible reasons why the pregnancy wasn't forthcoming and it was decided that tubal surgery was the solution. I traveled to Lagos for the surgery, which was scheduled for 5th March, 1997. However, the doctor couldn't admit me because he was waiting for my period. He wanted five clear days after my period so he wouldn't mix up menstrual flow with post operation hemorrhage. Finally, on the day of my surgery, we all got tired of waiting. We ordered a pregnancy test. It returned positive. I was six weeks pregnant! Sadly, a few months later, the scan reported fetal heartbeat negative. The baby had died in my womb and had to be evacuated. In 1998, my husband and I tested HIV positive. The baby issue became complex because some part of me didn't want to have a child while another part of me wanted to belong and be seen as a “real” woman. I saw a new gynecologist who said my child would have AIDS. I was scared stiff! I fluctuated between wanting and not wanting. Sometimes I got confused and prayed for a miracle but often I wasn't sure if I was praying for a baby or my healing. I'd start out praying for one and would catch myself praying for the other. Every month when my period came, my stained pants sneered at me. I felt no better than a leper because I was failing in my God-given role to bear children.
I went to Lagos from Kaduna in 1999. I had been attending a religious camp. I was there when the G.O dedicated September Holy Ghost service to women believing God for children. I went with faith in my heart and I waited and waited but the child didn't arrive. As things got worse and everything including my marriage fell apart, my desire for a child got stronger because HIV had stopped being a source of worry and concern. I was and still am very sure I can never die of AIDS but I couldn't say the same for babies. I feared I would die old and childless. The chances of having a baby got slimmer as I got older. I didn't stop hoping. Since babies didn't miraculously jump on women, my dilemma worsened. Now I started wishing that one could conceive a child like an air borne infectious disease so I could get exposed and contact it. That was wishful thinking because it didn't happen.
The hardest part of having a baby for me was the fact that I had to face and acknowledge that my child could be HIV-positive, even if I did all I knew to do. I understand there is a 2 percent chance the baby might be infected and I battled with taking that chance. I eventually had to accept that HIV-positive or -negative, I wanted a child and I was willing to take the chance. I have been told life is all about chances and we can't always be assured everything will go on fine. My counselor said some women die in childbirth and with every pregnancy; there is always a small chance that the baby could have a birth defect. Those being the case and it being common knowledge, women still go ahead and have babies. I decided to listen to my heart and go for it. I didn't want to wait till menopause (I have a few years left) and later spend the rest of my life regretting not having a child. I'd rather try and fail to have a child than know I was too afraid to take the risk. Most importantly, I had to answer the question of what to do if my baby ended up HIV-positive. What message will I be sending to the very many women I counsel? Will I feel forever guilty knowing I infected my baby? Can I love the child still and not feel pity for him knowing what he'll have to contend with for the rest of his life? I wasn't sure, but as soon as the doctor handed that child to me in the theatre, as soon as I set my eyes on the most beautiful baby in the world, I knew the answer to my questions. I can never stop loving this child whatever his HIV status. I can never regret the decision to have this baby, I feel like this is the very best thing I ever did with my life and I am forever grateful to God for the joy and gift of a child. I bless and thank the Lord daily for choosing me and giving me the privilege of taking care of one of his very special gifts, and I vowed not to let God down. The question of loving and wanting the baby was settled forever. On Monday, 15th January, my mom took the baby to the Nigerian Institute of Medical Research for a PCR test. This test looks for viral DNA and not antibodies like the regular screening we do. It doesn't make sense to test babies younger than 18 months for HIV antibodies because you will most certainly find it there if the mother is positive because all babies carry their mother's antibodies. The only way to know for certain the status of a child born to an HIV infected woman is by doing the PCR and that was what we did. I was far away in school in Los Angeles but I was totally useless the entire day. LA is 9 hours ahead of Lagos so at 9 a.m. when they were in the lab getting tested, it was midnight my time and I couldn't sleep a wink.
All day I was a nervous wreck. I slept throughout class that Monday and I guess it was my body's way of refusing to process what my brain was churning out. All my classmates told me not to stress because the baby would be OK, but I still stressed and I think the longest part of it all was waiting for the results. When I returned home, I went to the clinic for my appointment and I asked for my baby's result but the doctor said it hadn't come in yet. I tried all day to read their faces and gestures because I wasn't sure if they were serious or just afraid to tell me. I forced my doctor to promise to call me as soon as the results arrived. He never called and I was too afraid to make the call. Finally, I got my body and head together and called a week later. He told me he still didn't know the results. This time I knew he had to be kidding. I was sure he had the result but didn't know how to tell me. He promised to go to the lab right away and call me in 20 minutes but HE DID NOT CALL!
Well, my two wonderful doctors didn't call me after 20 minutes and still didn't call after 2 hours so I gave up and decided never to return to NIMR. I don't want to know the result. No lab result can reduce my love for this child and I don't care what anybody says. My son is fine and so am I. Later that evening, my mother led the family in prayers and thanksgiving and I knelt in total surrender to the will of God, knowing that He loves me too much. My son is fine, his test returned HIV negative! He does not have HIV! Praise our God Forever! The doctor's version of the story: He was scared to go to the lab. He called his colleague who was originally my doctor until I got pregnant and transferred to ANC. He confided in him that if the baby was positive, he would run away and not show his face anywhere. They both decided to act like the men they were even though they didn't feel like doctors anymore and went to the lab. If you have ever had the fortune of managing me clinically, you would understand I'm not your everyday, easy patient. They both had every reason to be scared. Eventually when he got the results, he was so happy to know there's no cause for alarm that he allowed himself to get distracted and left me waiting.