Prologue.

Survival is defined as the state or fact of continuing to live or exist, typically in spite of an accident, ordeal, or difficult circumstances. My sisters and I went through an ordeal of sorts... 

Due to having, whom you may consider to be the worst parents on the face of the earth, I have had to assume the role of caretaker and provider for my three younger sisters. I have had to do so from very early on, ever since my first sister Torre was born. Yani came only eleven months later, and I was left to deal with two screaming babies when I was still just a baby myself with only a four-year difference in age from Torre. I did it though -- at first, I complained and cried with them, but then I realized, still young, that nothing would change. And then… Baby sis was born. 

Baby sis didn’t cry the way Torre and Yani did when they first came into the world. They came in loud, kicking and screaming. They were fighters, and still are. She, on the other hand, came into the world quiet -- it scared me. I recall the Doctor needing to remove fluid from her lungs to help her breathe. She finally coughed, then wailed. I thought she would never stop. They could barely calm her down enough to feed her. When the Doctor finally got her calm, mom was so irritated by all the noise that she couldn’t even be bothered to brest feed her, so I asked if I could do it. The Doctor and nurses exchanged concerned looks, then hesitantly gave her to me, then passed me a bottle. 

She latched on to the bottle immediately. As she suckled, I stared down at her in the dimly lit hospitle room seated in a chair positioned between my mother's bed and the window, now late in the evening, and began to cry. Like ugly cry. I was gagging, and snorting, snot and tears covered my face and shirt. This furthered my mother's irritation, but I couldn’t help it. She was so much tinier than I remember Torre and Yani being, who slept undisturbed in a too small chair on the other side of the hospital room. She came in small and needed help breathing and I knew that I was her only hope of survival, like I had been for the others, but they showed way more fight where baby sis didn't. This scared me.

“Ma’am, you need to name her and sign her birth certificate,” the nurse said, trying to hand the papers to mom. Dad didn’t even come this time. 

“I don’t care, you name her,” Mom looked at me with aggravation plastered on her face.

“Mae,” I said, staring down at my new baby sister. She was beginning to doze off as she continued to suckle, though her pace was inconsistent now.

“That’s creative.” Mom scoffed at me. “Whatever. Give me the papers so I can sign them.”

“WAIT! Wait!” I screamed. Then I quickly looked down at Mae, still sleeping, then over at Torre and Yani, still curled up like a bonded pair of kittens. “Sorry… It’s Mae like ‘M-A-E.’ And she has a middle name. It's Elise. Mae Elise.” Mom rolled her eyes at me. As she began writing, I craned my neck over to see if she'd actually put her middle name down. The rest of us don't have one. Mae will need more than we ever did. 

Note: I named her Mae because she was born in May which is Spring, and I knew symbolized change and new beginnings, but I didn’t want to spell it like the month. I later found out that the spelling I chose had to do with summer. And none of the others meant spring but cut me some slack. I was seven when she was born.