On May 24, 2014, my sister died. She was not born yet. We had a  miscarriage and she did not make it. When I heard the news, I cried. At first I thought they were lying. Everyone said no, it was all true. I could not believe it. It had been six months and my stepmother had been in and out of the hospital the whole time. She got out for a few days and then would go right back in the hospital again. I could not believe it, but then I thought about it. Maybe she was gone for a good reason. She could have been deaf or some fingers could have been gone, but all I knew was that she was my sister and I would have loved her no matter what. Even if she was crippled, I still would have loved her.

The funeral, ohhh, was it sad. My brother was not there. He could not make it. I skipped school for it. There were many tears shed.  After the ceremony, we had a get together where we had food and tried to have a good time. That day changed my life forever, and everyone else's too.
    

We kept her ashes, and we have pictures of her. Her clothes were so small. She was just a little bigger than the size of my hand. She was all red, her skin color not yet peach because her heart and brain were not yet developed for the size of her body.  A few months later, my memere died of cancer. After her funeral, we kept  her ashes too.
    

So now, I only have two siblings, my brother Brody and my other sister Taylor. My baby sister’s name would have been Madison. My year has been really, really bad, having lost my sister and my memere. The especially sad part was that we lost Baby Madison two days after my birthday and I thought that I would be getting a birthday surprise. But my dad said that as long as we have each other, that is all we need.