Sexyangel329
Honorary CF Member
So often we think certain shit cant happen to us specially when we think we are in a committed relationship I jsut read this story and thought I would share it
Married and pregnant, the last person on Norma G.'s* mind was her former boyfriend. But when she tested positive for HIV--and her husband didn't--she discovered that her ex had been hiding a terrible secret.
Although well-documented in the African American community, the idea of men being on the "down low"--leading a secret double life in which they cheat on their girlfriends or wives with men--has been little talked about among Latinos. In fact, there isn't even an equivalent phrase for "down low" in the Spanish language, partly because our culture largely considers homosexuality a taboo. "b>I see Latinos all the time who deny at first they've done anything with another man," says David Lopez, outreach and education coordinator for New York City's AIDS Service Center NYC. "Over time, they'll explain it by saying, 'But I only did it once or twice.'"
Such rationalization, however, comes with a heavy price for women: According to recent Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reports, more Latinas than ever are testing positive for HIV, with 46 percent--more than any group of women--contracting the deadly virus through unprotected heterosexual sex.
Norma G. is one of those mujeres. A third generation Mexican American living in Los Angeles, Norma G. was crazy about her Puerto Rican boyfriend, Lorenzo*, whom she dated for about eight months in 1998, until she grew tired of his spending most of his free time at the gym. Norma eventually married someone else, not giving Lorenzo another thought--until, while pregnant, she learned that she was HIV positive. "I went numb," she recalls. Here, in her own words, is Norma's frightening story:
WARNING SIGNS
I was 24 years old when I started dating Lorenzo. I thought he was so hot--tall, athletic, exotic looking. But our big problem was that he was constantly at the gym. When I complained, he'd say, "No. I have to see my boys." I'd only met one person from that gym out of all the so-called friends he had there. Once, I walked up while they were sitting in a car talking. When they saw me approach, they quickly ended their conversation, which I thought was a little strange. But I paid no mind to it really.
GETTING SICK
Two months after Lorenzo and I split, I started getting sick a lot. At first, it was the flu; I had the chills, a high fever. I went to the hospital three times within two weeks and the doctors just gave me antibiotics. Then one day, after I was sick, my hair fell out--in chunks--and I freaked out. The doctor said that it was a reaction to the fever. Nobody guessed what was happening yet.
Later that same year, I met my husband. We dated for a year, fell in love and had a big wedding in 2000. Not long after, I was diagnosed with Bell's palsy, which caused half my face to become temporarily paralyzed. I thought all these sudden and frequent illnesses were weird, but the doctor's assured me they weren't worried, that it was all a coincidence. Eventually I regained a feeling in my face, and my life went on as usual. In July 2002, I found out I was pregnant. My husband and I were so excited. I already had an older daughter from my first marriage, but having this second child was something I thought would really bond my husband and me.
Two weeks after I had taken the standard blood tests that are given after you learn you're pregnant (which include an HIV test), my doctor asked me to come in. I thought it was another routine checkup, but when he sat me down, I knew something was wrong. "Norma," he said, "your HIV test came back positive."
I stopped breathing. It felt like I was in a Charlie Brown cartoon, when you hear the teacher speak, "wah-wah-wah." "Are you ok?" the doctor asked, grabbing my shoulders. "I'm going to die!" I yelled through tears. "I can't have this baby!" "You have options," he said. "You can have this baby." But I was numb all over. All I could think was, I need to call my husband.
When I finally reached my husband by phone, I barely made sense. "What am I gonna do? I'm gonna die," was all I could say. Once the words "I have HIV" finally came out, my husband couldn't believe it. Amazingly, he assumed responsibility and said that it must have been him who had given it to me.
After a sleepless night, my husband and I headed to the local rapid-testing center first thing in the morning. And then came the last thing in the world I expected: My husband's test came out negative.
It was totally unreal. So we both got tested again. And again. We did five tests. But his kept coming back negative, and mine kept on coming back positive.
Married and pregnant, the last person on Norma G.'s* mind was her former boyfriend. But when she tested positive for HIV--and her husband didn't--she discovered that her ex had been hiding a terrible secret.
Although well-documented in the African American community, the idea of men being on the "down low"--leading a secret double life in which they cheat on their girlfriends or wives with men--has been little talked about among Latinos. In fact, there isn't even an equivalent phrase for "down low" in the Spanish language, partly because our culture largely considers homosexuality a taboo. "b>I see Latinos all the time who deny at first they've done anything with another man," says David Lopez, outreach and education coordinator for New York City's AIDS Service Center NYC. "Over time, they'll explain it by saying, 'But I only did it once or twice.'"
Such rationalization, however, comes with a heavy price for women: According to recent Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reports, more Latinas than ever are testing positive for HIV, with 46 percent--more than any group of women--contracting the deadly virus through unprotected heterosexual sex.
Norma G. is one of those mujeres. A third generation Mexican American living in Los Angeles, Norma G. was crazy about her Puerto Rican boyfriend, Lorenzo*, whom she dated for about eight months in 1998, until she grew tired of his spending most of his free time at the gym. Norma eventually married someone else, not giving Lorenzo another thought--until, while pregnant, she learned that she was HIV positive. "I went numb," she recalls. Here, in her own words, is Norma's frightening story:
WARNING SIGNS
I was 24 years old when I started dating Lorenzo. I thought he was so hot--tall, athletic, exotic looking. But our big problem was that he was constantly at the gym. When I complained, he'd say, "No. I have to see my boys." I'd only met one person from that gym out of all the so-called friends he had there. Once, I walked up while they were sitting in a car talking. When they saw me approach, they quickly ended their conversation, which I thought was a little strange. But I paid no mind to it really.
GETTING SICK
Two months after Lorenzo and I split, I started getting sick a lot. At first, it was the flu; I had the chills, a high fever. I went to the hospital three times within two weeks and the doctors just gave me antibiotics. Then one day, after I was sick, my hair fell out--in chunks--and I freaked out. The doctor said that it was a reaction to the fever. Nobody guessed what was happening yet.
Later that same year, I met my husband. We dated for a year, fell in love and had a big wedding in 2000. Not long after, I was diagnosed with Bell's palsy, which caused half my face to become temporarily paralyzed. I thought all these sudden and frequent illnesses were weird, but the doctor's assured me they weren't worried, that it was all a coincidence. Eventually I regained a feeling in my face, and my life went on as usual. In July 2002, I found out I was pregnant. My husband and I were so excited. I already had an older daughter from my first marriage, but having this second child was something I thought would really bond my husband and me.
Two weeks after I had taken the standard blood tests that are given after you learn you're pregnant (which include an HIV test), my doctor asked me to come in. I thought it was another routine checkup, but when he sat me down, I knew something was wrong. "Norma," he said, "your HIV test came back positive."
I stopped breathing. It felt like I was in a Charlie Brown cartoon, when you hear the teacher speak, "wah-wah-wah." "Are you ok?" the doctor asked, grabbing my shoulders. "I'm going to die!" I yelled through tears. "I can't have this baby!" "You have options," he said. "You can have this baby." But I was numb all over. All I could think was, I need to call my husband.
When I finally reached my husband by phone, I barely made sense. "What am I gonna do? I'm gonna die," was all I could say. Once the words "I have HIV" finally came out, my husband couldn't believe it. Amazingly, he assumed responsibility and said that it must have been him who had given it to me.
After a sleepless night, my husband and I headed to the local rapid-testing center first thing in the morning. And then came the last thing in the world I expected: My husband's test came out negative.
It was totally unreal. So we both got tested again. And again. We did five tests. But his kept coming back negative, and mine kept on coming back positive.
