Mourning Mighty Micah

Last night, a beautiful baby went to Jesus. Micah was just under a month old, weighed a little over three pounds and only lived with us for ten short days. But it feels like so much longer. I held him on the ride home from the hospital when we went to pick him up and he has spent the last week living upstairs with us. 

It is amazing how much you can grow to love someone in such a short time. But that is exactly what we did; every NG tube feeding given, every diaper changed, every feeding thrown up, every cuddle given, every song sung, every prayer said, we fell more in love with this precious boy. He was ours and we loved him. We rejoiced in every success and praised him for his strong will. We felt his every struggle. We held him next to our bodies and comforted him when he cried. We did everything we could to help his broken body. We trusted God for his perfect plan. And we thanked God when Micah was finally free from pain.

But still our hearts hurt for our baby; the baby that drew us together, the baby we prayed over, the baby that captivated our lives, the baby we hoped would make it. We called him Mighty Micah because we could tell that he was a fighter. Mighty Micah would not easily give up, so neither would we. We all fought as long as we could, but in the end, we knew that Micah's body needed to let go. So Chante held him as Sheila and I sat close. We listened to music and prayed for our baby's struggles to end. We felt peace as we realized his battle was over.

We already miss him terribly, but I'm so thankful to have had him in our lives. I'm thankful he came to COTP where he could get the best care possible. I'm thankful that we were here to love Micah, to cuddle him, kiss him, and pray for him. I'm thankful that we realized days ago just how precious this baby was. And I'm thankful that God trusted us enough to let us be his hands and feet to Mighty Micah.