Mom had a miscarriage. I... I think that means she's lost my little brother. Maybe it was a little sister? I would like a little sister... I could teach her stuff. Look after her. I'd like to be a big brother... Dad had asked me to stay home from church to keep an eye on Mom. She's supposed to be resting, but won't. Says she has too much to do to lie around all day. Dad tried to tell her that the doctors must know a thing or two about what they're talking about, they are doctors after all. But she still refuses to do what they say.

While she was napping in front of the TV I decided to go out and ride my bike. I know I'm not supposed to ride it in the street, but it's Sunday. There's hardly ever any traffic on our street on Sundays.

This morning was different. A couple of the neighborhood teenagers decided to have a race.

They came around the corner just as I did.

I was so scared that they wouldn't stop in time. But they did, thank God.

She woke up and when she found me gone, started looking for me. The first place she looked was the street where I was trying to avoid getting hit by a car.

I've never seen her so mad. She was yelling at me. Telling me how bad I was to be riding my bike in the street when all of a sudden she doubled over, clutching her middle and started screaming.

By the time Dad got home, most of the bleeding had stopped. He made her go to the hospital anyway.

This time I went too.

When we arrived they took Mom away and we haven't seen her since. The doctor did make an appearance about an hour after we arrived. He told Dad that Mom was going to have to have something called a DNC. I don't know what that is, but Dad seems to. He just pressed his lips together real tight and nodded.

I know it's part of my punishment. To have to sit here and watch Dad as he paces the hallway waiting for the doctor to come out and talk to him.

"Why, Timothy? Just tell me why," he asks, his voice quivering.

"I don't know," I shrug.

"Well if you don't then who does, Tim?" I can hear the barely controlled anger in his voice. "Answer me that, will you?" he has his back to me, like he can't stand the sight of me.

"I don't know," I whisper fighting back tears.

Why'd they keep me? If I'm such a disappointment to them, then why'd they keep me?

Just as I'm about to ask him that he turns around and I'm shocked to see tears running down his face. Dad never cries. He says that men are supposed to be strong for their women so they should never cry. 'Let the women cry, Tim,' he always tells me. 'They're good at it. But don't let a woman's tears sway you into doing something you don't want to do.'

"Dad?" I question. "Is Mom going to be okay?"

"I sincerely hope so," he replies before turning and walking away.

Is this all my fault? Everything else seems to be. I can't do anything right any more, even when I really try. Maybe...maybe if I had been what they wanted, I could have been enough. Maybe they wouldn't have needed someone else. My little brother, or sister, wouldn't be dead now because of me. If I'd only listened to them. Would Dad hate me so much? Will Dad ever stop looking at me like I've broken his heart? I'm not sure I can even face Mama any more. I've hurt her so much…