In a few weeks, the first baby of a drug-using mother will be born in Las Tunas. The trend, however, suggests that it won't be the only one.

She is carrying Lucas in her womb, is already more than 30 weeks along, and, fortunately, since being admitted to the hospital, she hasn't felt any urges to use drugs. She said this while we talked amidst the crystalline calm that surrounds her.

There, she shared her name with us, without hesitation or much explanation. Also with absolute cordiality, she recounted the tremendous story of her life; by far among the most enlightening that these journalists' recorders have ever heard.

She did it knowing that everything would be published, solely with the avowed intention of setting an example and shouting a truth that has crushed her existence in the worst possible way: the only real success against drugs lies in never starting to use them.

"I was a young woman who had 'opportunities,' but when COVID started, my mother's foreign husband died, and then I had to go out and 'fight.'"

"To make matters worse, my brother was arrested, sentenced to 16 years, and I adore him; I felt terrible and turned to street life."

"I decided to go to Havana with a friend and started prostituting myself. That drug world there is quite normal, and my friends used drugs because they felt they could relax more for the business, and I tried it. It was around the time I turned 20, and I've never been able to get out of it since."

That's where the downfall began. Because there was no transition in her history, she went straight for synthetic cannabinoids (“chemical, little paper”), and it’s the only drug she knows; of course, that’s enough to make her path more twists and turns than turns.

“I remember the first time I tried it. I was in a building, and I saw it collapse, and the street split in two, and I was falling into it all. Another time I saw dogs running after me, with balls of fire; and one morning, crossing Galiano Street with a friend, she was pulling me because I saw the cars far away and they were right there, on top of me, they almost killed me.”

She told us that the “chemical” from there, from Havana, is stronger. “It smelled like cumin, it really paralyzed you and made you completely out of it; here it’s milder, although it seems like it has a lot of formaldehyde now, because it made all my hair fall out, I went bald.”

The truth is, when she returned to the neighborhood, she was a different person. "And if I get the urge and I run out of money, I'll do anything, whatever it takes; for me, using is the most important thing. I can smoke up to 40,000 pesos worth of weed a day. I've done it.

"I took advantage of my mom being out of town once, for example, and I left the house empty; I even sold the bed. With that money, I paid off my debt; they gave me some change, and I smoked it too. When I'm like that, when I get the urge, I don't think, I don't analyze, I don't trust anyone."

Her memories are cruel, to say the least. "Almost always, when I use it, I fall asleep; that's why they steal everything from me. From gold rings to the shoes I'm wearing. The wives of the dealers took advantage of me, because they'd see me with a chain and say, 'If you're going to sell that, give it to me.' When I ran out of money, I'd go there, and I'd lose it."

"That's how they scammed me, gave me fake prescriptions, beat me up, because I use drugs wherever I want, whenever I want. One day, I looked in the mirror and realized, in a minute, that I wasn't the same anymore. I got down to 42 kilos (from the just over 60 I used to weigh)."

Arriving at her mother's house days after going out, always drugged, waiting a moment sitting in any chair, tapping her foot a lot, and then going out again, for a long time, became a habit.

Many times she came in screaming for water, her tongue purple, vomiting, convulsing, with nothing but the "paper" itself mattering to her.

"When I get lost, I go to a house there, with people who supposedly love me very much, and all they do is drug me and drug me and drug me; and God knows what else they do to me when I'm like that, because I fall asleep."

By that time, she had her first child; She had been born when she was 18, sometime before the agony of her life began. But she didn't care for him; his mother took care of him, and so did the boy's father, thankfully, completely removed from her turbulent and chaotic world.

"The boy is with his father now; I had no choice, they took him from me. I haven't seen him in almost a year. That's why I have to be strong, because I am going to raise this son. I didn't even get to enjoy the smell of my eldest, and now God is going to help me so that the same thing doesn't happen to me. I don't know what I'll do, but no one is going to take him from me." She touches her belly and smiles. Only then does she begin to talk about Lucas, a key figure among the few things that inspire her.

BETWEEN THE CRADLE AND FAITH

She didn't even know she was pregnant yet, and Lucas was already showing signs. Because every time she smoked, it felt like something inside her body was going to burst. It was like a stomach that wouldn't stop moving, with an overwhelming force.

"My current partner doesn't use drugs. We met one day, drinking beer at a bar, and he started protecting me. Nobody can explain how he fell in love with me, but it happened. He was the one who took me to the Psychiatric Hospital, and he hasn't left my side since we've been together. He's Lucas's father.

"When I arrived at the psychiatric hospital, I wasn't menstruating anymore, but they explained that it could be from the vaccines I was taking for treatment, which were very strong. I wasn't worried because I was always smoking and smoking. I didn't want to shower or do anything."

"And I understood something: the only thing I was accomplishing was wasting my mother's time; I was still in the same situation." So one day I told her I was leaving because I wasn't going to stop, and I left."

Her relentless pursuit of "the little bit of cocaine" began again; the early mornings on the street, disappearing for days at a time, feeling the pull of the fetus that was already smoking, staying up all night, and being frightened by the frenetic pace imposed by the addiction.

"I was admitted to the maternity home, and there, not once did I have the urge; but as soon as I left, I started again."

"I remember I was in the 'little cave' and someone passed by and offered me some. I was about 20 weeks pregnant; from that moment on, I couldn't stop."

"My mom sent the police to look for me. I was in that situation for almost a month. I wanted to stop; I knew I couldn't go on like that, I cried, I needed it, but I didn't have the will."

"The last time I smoked while pregnant, I lay down next to a post, near the 'Marabú' tree." A man came up, grabbed my hand, and started taking me with him.

I struggled, but the drug makes you dizzy and weak, and a woman nearby alerted someone, and they helped me. Later, I found out he has AIDS; I don't know where he was taking me, or why. They almost killed him.

I got out of there, bought a strip of drugs, and went back home. There were a lot of people around because I'd been missing for so many days, and everyone thought something had happened to me. I arrived scared, sat down at the table, and told myself, 'This has to be the last time, God.' I took the strip, and I was completely drugged a while later when the paramedics came to get me.

They brought the ambulance. The doctor told me she could save me, that I should fight for my life, but I didn't care. I remember there was no electricity, and they shone a cell phone light on my face. They explained that I was in the middle of an acute episode, that we had to get out of there, and I told them I was worried because I didn't have a crib, just the crib. She arrived at the hospital completely drugged and, for the first two days, refused to eat; she was sad, like a prisoner.

"If it weren't for the baby, I would have let myself die already, but now I have to fight for him. The first two days here, Lucas was very restless; he wouldn't stop moving, and they explained that, even in the womb, he was going through withdrawal. He went through the same thing I did."

"He's calmer now. I know that when he's born, he might have problems with learning, sleep, and other things; we have to wait and see what to do."

"I'm going to be admitted with him and try to get out of this life. It's very difficult, very, and I know that no one can escape it completely, but so far I don't have any serious illnesses. God didn't want those things to happen to me; I'm going to fight."