I often forget that I nearly got a second sibling when I was twelve or so. It seems strange to me now that one could really forget a thing like that.
My mother was pregnant, and pretty far along. Things were to the naming and furniture rearrangement planning trimester. She was still working at the time. She started having terrible pains, so she went to the doctor, and found out that the baby had died inside her. She was devastated, of course, and pretty depressed for quite some time. I think she blamed herself for a while; the doctor suggested that it was probably the physical stress from work that was responsible.
I guess my little sister would be starting middle school now.