Pink or Blue?

The empty white noises of the hospital. The silent shock of my parents, followed by plentiful tears streaming down my mother’s  cheeks. The doctor, shaking his head, turning off the ultrasound, and leaving the room.

I was honestly in shock myself. Did my brother or sister really just disappear? All of my name ideas and nursery ideas flushed down the drain. I would never see them become a reality.

In ten years, would I be throwing pink roses to my sister as she bowed down at the end of her recital?    
Or would I be wearing a blue ball cap, watching my brother knock one out of the park.

I would never get to see the joy on their faces when they discover a quarter under their pillow, their tooth gone. 
Or see the happiness illuminate their face when they find brightly wrapped presents under the tree. I would not see them at all. Ever.