Thursday, November 17, 2011

hold me god

I've been sitting against a cement wall all day long. Waiting. Hoping to find out if there is a place for me in that house. I see other young mothers live here.  I am pregnant. I don't have a place to sleep.

People tell me that the house if full. People tell me the house is for younger mothers. People tell me I can't sit outside the gate waiting all day. They say I won't be able to have a spot, no matter how long I sit. They don't know I have nothing else I need to be doing. Why shouldn't I wait? Maybe they will decide to let me in.

I'm afraid. I don't want to be pregnant. I don't even speak to the father of my child anymore. His mother does not like me. I can't go back there.  They don't want me there.

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The women on Tuesday tell me to take care of myself. They tell me I am too old to live in the house for young mothers.  Today I feel old.  But I am only 22. They ask if my aunt in LesCayes will have me. I don't know the answer. They ask me about friends that I have. I'm thinking it over. I don't know what I want to do.
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Today I had blood drawn before the class.

A few other women did too.




Today my life changed.



They told me they did many tests. 

They said I have three things.  

I heard them.  

Did I hear them? 

The third thing they said... 

Did they say what I think they said?  

I am trying to process.

"I have SIDA?" I ask them. 

They tell me I heard them right.  

I get up and try to leave.  I want to run.

They grab me and ask me to sit down . To listen.

A few women touch my back while I hold my head in my hands and sob.  

I cannot hear what they are saying.  I cannot listen right now.

They keep repeating things.  They say I found out early.  I will not die.

I want to die.  I don't have anyone that wants me.

They say they can help me find a program.  They say medicine will help me not get sick.

I can't tell anyone this.  I don't want anyone to know.

I knew he was with many women.  I always knew.

My head hurts.  I ask for medicine.  My head.is.pounding.

They say I will not die. They say it is not the same as before. 
I can't hear.  I can't think.

The door opened. Someone came in the room.   I don't lift my head to look.

It is quiet. 

Minutes pass.

I don't look up.

I hear her quietly say, "I have SIDA. I have had it for a few years. I take medicine.  I am not sick.  They will give you medicine at a program. You won't be sick if you go. You will live."

I listen to her.  

I don't look at her.  

I keep my head down.

I listen. I cry.

The white women say "Thank you." "Thank you for talking to her  - you have courage."  I look up. I see the woman with SIDA.  She was in class with me today.  I have seen her face before. She has tears running down her face too.  She gets up to go.

I have so much to decide.  So much to think about.  Where should I live. Who can I tell?  Maybe this is not true.  Maybe they are wrong.  I hope they are wrong.

They say come back tomorrow. 

They tell me I need to go for another test.  They say that they will pray. 

I get up to leave.  I don't know where I am going. I can't even think.

They pray.  They tell me they care. They ask God to hold me.  They ask God to help me. They say that He sees me.

I need Him to hold me. 
I need Him to help me.  
I hope that He sees me.



Please hold me God.