by Dana Asher

we're all at risk

There may be programs for the living, as Pomerantz says, but they certainly aren't ful-filling all needs. Paula Peterson was one woman on the lookout for such programs. She was still nursing her 11-month-old son, Benjamin, when she found out she had been infected with AIDS from an unprotected sexual encounter about 11 years earlier -- nearly seven years before she was married.

"I was shocked, because I never, ever considered myself to be in a risk group. I'm a Jewish, middle-class, educated woman," says Peterson, author of Penitent, With Roses: An HIV Positive Mother Reflects (University Press of New England, 2001). "I'm here to say that you don't have to be a drug user or a prostitute to get AIDS. You're not excluded because of your background or race. It can happen to anyone."

While she exhibited many of the symptoms of full-blown AIDS, her doctor wasn't going to test her for the virus because she wasn't in a high-risk group. Some physicians even began to label her night sweats, high fevers, and headaches as "baby blues." When the test came back positive, Peterson's main concern was for her husband and child, both of whom tested negative for the disease.

Peterson did find solace in Judaism, particularly from her spiritual leader, Rabbi Helen Cohn of Congregation Emanu-El in San Francisco. ("She's a mother too," she says, "and the maternal force gave me quite a bit of comfort.") In addition, San Francisco, with its large, active gay community, provides more services through its Jewish community than many other cities. Its Jewish Family and Children's Services offers the AIDS, Disabilities, and Chronic Illness Project, through which services such as coun-seling, support groups, case management, referral services, emergency financial assistance, attendant care, and a Jewish connection are provided.

"JBCFS volunteers came to my house to help cook and help clean when I was really sick. And the Chicken Soupers, volunteers from local congregations, delivered meals twice a month," says Peterson.

According to Abby Kovalsky, project coordinator, for the AIDS, Chronic Illness and Disabilities Project under the auspices of San Francisco's Jewish Family and Children's Services, the population of the San Francisco community is indeed a little different from other communities and that may explain the range of services and out-pouring of volunteers. But, she adds, that's not to say there's less of a need in other areas of the country.

"In certain cases, people may be afraid to ask for help, they may be afraid they won't be heard," Kovalsky says. "Sometimes, it takes a few squeaky wheels to get those pro-grams put into place."

Still, like Pomerantz, Peterson says that finding other women like her - Jewish women affected by AIDS -- would make a difference in coping. She belongs to a sup-port group of mothers with HIV, but the members tend to come from a very different background than hers, usually a much tougher environment than that of this young Jewish mother with a master's degree in English literature. "I certainly can't be picky, though," she says, "I'm sure there are more women like me out there, but they proba-bly haven't come out yet or haven't been tested because, like I did, they don't think they are at risk. For now, it's very isolating."

Peterson's mother was her rock; she was the first person she told about her diagnosis. Her mom was babysitting for Benjamin while Peterson went to the doctor for her results (her parents moved to San Francisco from their hometown of Chicago for a year when she fell ill); the young woman returned distraught. "Mom," Peterson said, "I've been handed a death sentence."

"Well," her mother quietly responded, "life is a death sentence."

"She was sure we would overcome this; she had tremendous faith and strength of will and she deserves a lot of credit," Peterson says. "She was sure that I would be okay, that my son would be fine. So far, she's right."

Benzer has heard stories about unsupportive parents: about sick children dying alone in their beds or parents who arrive as their children take their last breath, parents who usher out of the room a partner who has been nursing their child for months. "My feeling is that Jewish parents, many of whom are quite liberal, are better at this," she says. "But you never know. Parenting crosses all religions."

"It's certainly changed my role as a mother," Benzer says. "I'm a pretty strong person and I like to be in control. I've learned, though, that I can't fix everything -- even for my baby." But while AIDS can't be "fixed," strong, Jewish matriarchs still take on so many faces as advocates, as support systems, as caretakers.

Perhaps, then, the question the Jewish community needs to ask now is: Who will take care of the mothers?