We met Micah (pictured left) the same day we met our youngest daughter. We met her in an office on the second floor of a non-descript building. It was an overcast, muggy day in Chongqing, China. She was in a group of 6 baby girls, dressed in colorful outfits, wondering around in their walkers. There they were, oblivious to the fact that they would change our lives forever. It was the end of a long journey that began thousands of miles away.

We had first met Micah's parents at the meeting to plan for our trip, and review all the paperwork we would need to complete while in China. They also had a 3-year old daughter, and we were glad that our girls would have someone to play with. Both of our daughters were enamored with the idea of having a baby sister. And, as with us, one set of grandparents would be traveling to China to help out. All was well, and the stars seemed to be aligning.

The doors to the tiny elevator opened up and we were suddenly face to face with our little girls - angels we had dreamed about for so long. Someone gasped "babies!" There were lumps in our throats, and tears in our eyes. Our hearts pounded. Soon to be Fathers scrambled to place the bags down and break out the cameras. Soon to be Mother's eyes opened wide as they tried to pick out their daughter.

You could tell who Micah's family was going to be - they all wore shirts emblazoned with her referral picture. Such proud, fierce love.

So there we were, strangers who had come together in a foreign land to share this most intimate of moments. For some of us, husband and wife would be transformed into parents. And for the rest of us, our families would become complete. Little girls were suddenly big sisters. It was also a moment of great trepidation. Was there enough love? But those fears were swept away and replaced with tears of joy. Doorways and passageways were suddenly thrown open in our hearts. Emotions and feelings came pouring from places we never knew existed. There was more than enough of love.

It was one of the happiest days of our lives.

Micah wasn't a happy baby - she cried quite a lot. She cried if you put her down, and she cried even if you held her. And it seemed that she had an ear infection. It was a rough start.

Eventually we made it home, and we began the task of figuring out how our daughters worked, and helping them understand that they now had a mommy and daddy, and they belonged to a family.

Two of the families lived up near the Oregon Border, and the rest of us were scattered about the Bay Area. Yet we managed to get together recently at the Bay Area Discovery Museum. The girls had a blast. Micah was smiling. She had been transformed into a happy little girl. The picture you see is from that day. Later on we rejoined at the house of a family that lived nearby. I held out my arms, and Micah came to me with a huge grin. I held her in my arms as she played with my beard, giggling as she tried to pull it out. It was a fantastic day.

It would be the last time I would see her. Micah's mother called us later on in the week and told us that Micah had contracted Chickenpox. We were worried - Micah had been having problems with febrile seizures and she had been in the emergency room a few times.

A few days later, while I was giving our baby a bath, the phone rang. My wife quietly came in and told me the news. Michah was gone. She had gone into seizures again, and then slipped into a coma. She didn't come out of it. The Chickenpox had been too much. I nodded, and quietly kissed my daughter. My mind was filled with the memory of holding a giggling girl tugging on my beard. It had only happened a few days before ...

We said goodbye to Micah on a cold foggy day. All the families were there. It was a Jewish funeral. Her parents buried her, placing the dirt in the grave themselves. There is something very hard and difficult in seeing a casket that small. We were all stunned and heartbroken. It was hard to believe that she was gone ... and I'm quite sure that God himself cried when he held out his hands to welcome her.

It was one of the saddest days of our lives.

Her grandfather remarked that at least she knew what happiness was, at least she experienced a proud fierce love. She had been healed. We had only known her for 7 months, but she had changed us all. We will never be the same.

Goodnight my angel.

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Published: (2006-06-30 17:14:36.0)