I know it's been a while...

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"To you, forever, from me to you"

I've been very lucky in my life in that I've never lost somebody close to me, other than pets and my grandparents who were in their 80s. I've never even been to a funeral. Because of the prevalence of AIDS in South Africa, death is a very familiar thing in many people's lives. Almost everyone has someone in their immediate family who has died from it. I've read all the books and done all the research. AIDS is an obsession for me and I think I've learned everything there is to know about it. So I'm fully aware of the course that the virus takes in the body, and what happens when the medicine is or isn't taken properly. If the ARVs aren't taken at the exact time that they're supposed to be taken, day after day, the body eventually becomes resistant to the drugs. And when the body becomes resistant, there is no plan B. It's only a matter of time until the body can't fight the virus anymore. So taking the medicine properly is essential to one's survival.

Now take the typical teenager. It's normal behavior for them to want to break the rules and not do the things they're told they need to do. But what about a teenager who is HIV positive? I think it's only natural for them to put up a fight when it comes to taking their medicine. But how do you get through to a child that it's their life they're putting on the line? The thought crosses my mind too often as to what I may have to face in the future once the body stops responding to the medicine. It's a devastating reality that my child will possibly become resistant. I've heard there's nothing in the world that's worse than having to bury your own child. I hope I never need to experience this, but it's one of my biggest fears in life.

I need to live my life, and I need to trust that I've given my child all the knowledge and encouragement needed to know what needs to be done when it comes to the medicine, and what the consequences will be if it isn't done properly. As a parent, you want to teach them to make their own decisions and learn from their own mistakes, but if I see my child making a mistake regarding the medicine, how can I sit back and watch while the body slowly gives up fighting the virus? That's not a lesson I'm willing to let my child learn, because there isn't time to waste. So I try to do all I can in terms of encouragement and support, and in the meantime, I will do what I need to do for myself by eventually going back to America and continuing on my path towards medicine. But in the back of my head, I have the fear that one day I'll have to make a choice between studying medicine or coming back to South Africa to care for my child who at some point will be out of options in terms of treatment. I only keep hoping that the body will be able to fight long enough until there is eventually a cure maybe 10 or 20 years down the road. If my words have any effect on my child's actions, I have no doubt we will see a cure together. So I hope beyond hope that I will never have to experience the pain of losing a child.

I have no doubt in my mind that I want to devote my life to the fight against AIDS, because I've seen it break too many hearts and I've seen too many people burying their children, or children burying their parents. After seeing what I've seen, how could I possibly do anything else with my life than practice medicine. And every moment of it will be dedicated to my child. "To you, forever, from me to you."

A few more photos..

Bittersweet Goodbyes

I think one of the hardest things about developing close relationships with my kids is eventually having to let go. I guess that goes for any parent, no matter what the situation is with their children. They can't stay at home forever. They have to grow up and move on with their lives. And my children can't stay at an orphanage forever. They all must either be reunited with their families or be placed in the care of a guardian who will take over raising them until they are ready to live on their own.

AB has been living here for 10 years. He's probably about 14 or 15 now; nobody knows his real age. And after growing up here and spending the majority of his life here, the time came for him to move on and stay with a family that can give him the love and attention he needs and deserves. I've known AB since 2006, and although he can get himself into trouble sometimes, I trust him with my life; more than I trust any other child. He reminds me of the football player from The Blind Side. He dropped out of one school after another, and he can hardly write his own name or read, but the one thing he can do better than anyone else is protect the people he loves. He's the definition of loyalty. And to be able to do that after being let down your whole life by the people you love - it's incredible. He amazes me and we got especially close in the past week because for the first time in 4 years, he had a serious conversation with me instead of just making jokes. He confided in me for the first time as to what he was really feeling and what he was scared of. And from that moment, it seemed as if he never wanted to leave my side. Whenever there was any thought or question in his head, he wanted to run it by me and hear my advice. Every time a child opens up to me like this, it blows my mind. What is it that made them feel like they can trust me? I don't think I treat them any differently than anyone else. But AB started calling me "mama" this week. He told me he was so happy because he knows how much I love him and he said I'm like a mother to him, and that I treat him as though he were my only child. I think maybe the difference between me and a lot of other people in these children's lives is that although I have so much love for so many children, I make a point to give each of them my undivided love and attention to make them feel special. I think it's easy for a child at an orphanage to get thrown into the shuffle. It's easy to care for the children together as a whole. But each one needs individual love and attention. So that's what I try hard to do. I want each one to know that they are special.

So it's hard for me now to say goodbye to AB. He found a family who will foster him and he's very happy to have a place to call home for the first time, and to have people who will love him and spoil him like he deserves. I'm so happy for him because he couldn't stay here forever, so it's great that he got this opportunity to have a family. But the selfish part of me will really miss him. He left this morning feeling optimistic about his future and what this family will be able to give him. He even told me he really wants to go to school, which shocked me because he kept dropping out of school or running away from school, so the orphanage gave up trying. I think maybe he just wants someone to really see him. If this family gives him the attention he needs when he gets home from school, and the support he will need to get through school, I really think he will be able to succeed. I think the problem he had was keeping himself focused and motivated when he felt there was nobody by his side. Hopefully this family will be able to do that for him. Oh my AB. I will really miss him. But I know this is the best thing for him and he knows I'm just a phone call away.

Teenager-isms

Although there is no place in the world I am happier than in Khayelitsha with my kids, frustration and stress make up a very big part of my life here. Over the years I have developed very close relationships with many of the teenagers, all of whom come from situations that have landed them in a children's home, which tends to magnify the teenager-isms. My son Akon is now 18. I have spent the last 3 years holding his hand, guiding him along the right path, and then letting go, only to find out soon after that he has drifted off the path again. So time and time again I grab his hand and pull him back, no matter how frustrating and stressful it is. And sometimes I tell myself 'I can't keep doing this. I'm never going to get through to him'. But how can you decide a point in time that you are ready to give up on your son? You can't.

The past month has been another big test of our relationship since he has been in jail since the day before I arrived back here. Finding out things he has done wrong and things he has lied to me about has not been easy, and I again told myself I'm cutting him off financially, because he hasn't fulfilled his end of the deal. But of course I slept on it and the anger faded, and in my head he went back to being the perfect angel who could never have done these things, so of course it must all be a big misunderstanding somehow..

So I have visited him every Sunday from 2 to 4, just sitting with him, bringing him KFC and candy, telling him all the news, and telling him how much I love him. And I sat in court all day yesterday, waiting for them to call his name and bring him in so I could at least get a few minutes to see him from a distance. In the end, since his file was lost, the judge said he is free to go home. When he came out of the courtroom, I hugged him as if he had been locked away for 10 years (although I had hugged him just 4 days before this when I visited him). But I never thought it would be so different to hug him once he was free. It's a funny feeling - seeing your child in jail and then being released. It's an experience I hope to never have again, but I think my eyes sparkled a little bit brighter once we left that courtroom. I just kept smiling at him and he kept laughing at me.

Through all of this, I realized that this is what being a parent is about. It's not just about being proud of him for the good things that he does; it's also about sticking by him through the bad things. It's about grabbing his hand over and over and over again, no matter how long it takes, until he stays on the right path on his own. And even if that takes forever, even if he never stays on the right path alone, I will still be there grabbing his hand and pulling him back. It will be worth every penny, every tear, every gray hair, and every wrinkle in my forehead.

Most people remember the day they became a mother because it's a big event and a single day on the calendar. But I don't remember the day I became a mother. I don't remember choosing to be a mother, and I don't remember deciding I was ready to be a mother. I simply found that I in fact had already become a mother and there was nothing I could do to change it. I had two options: I could turn my back on this role and do exactly what his own parents had already done to him, or I could do the best I can with what I have and see where it takes us. I've never regretted my choice for a second.

A few photos..