I don't know what came over me. Here I am, an unsure, brand new mom living with HIV, holding my newly born baby in my arms, and something kept telling me, "Just do it. Just tell them." The nurse asked me if I needed anything else before she left. Here's my chance. "The risk of HIV transmission from mother to child through breastfeeding when mother is undetectable is less than one percent. I'd like to breastfeed my baby and I'd like for you to speak with my infectious disease doctor for more information." It worked. They listened. They gave me support. My baby and I shared fourteen beautiful months of breastfeeding. These moments were some of the most tender moments I have ever experienced in this life–moments of true peace. I appreciated the stillness and the thoughtfulness. I thought, this is the closest my baby can be to me outside of my body, and here I feel a purpose wash over me that deems me completely and wholly a mother. My baby and me. My body and mind that had been tainted with the diagnosis of HIV was all that was keeping my baby alive and thriving–my milk, my liquid gold. I wasn't toxic. Continue reading...
