This site was created in memory of our son, Micah. Please do not take any ideas or images off this website. We work hard to make it a special tribute to our son.
www.inmemoryofmicahcorrinking.com Est. July 2007
"A moment in our arms, forever in our hearts."
Micah Corrin King
By: Megan Owings
The hospital doors welcomed us late that night, almost as if expecting we'd be arriving. The parking lot was eerily quiet as the full moon, a fiery orange, glistened off of the few cars parked in the spaces near our old beat up Jeep; probably belonging to those who made a living there "fixing" patients and those patients who were waiting to be "fixed" followed by being released back to their normal lives. Our circumstance, however, was unable to be fixed, and our lives would never be the same again. At 14 years old, my mind had trouble wrapping itself around this nightmare. My father, 41 at the time, escorted my sister and me through the double doors and into the waiting room where we waited to be taken back moments later. We entered a small room down the hall and to the left where she lay heartbroken, completely shattered in her bed. Her face was ghostly, and her eyes darkened with pain. Fear paralyzed every fiber of her body. The musty cotton sheets beneath her were tightly clenched in her fists as she jerked her frail body side to side while the nurses begged her to keep her oxygen mask on. I watched as her oxygen levels dropped to dangerous levels. I was terrified and frozen with fear. I thought she was going to die. Tears fell from her sunken eyes, down her smooth, soft cheeks, and finally plummeted to their fall, landing on her overstretched stomach. I searched the room for any sign of hope. The faces of those who were tightly crammed in this prison alongside me were dull and lifeless. Devastation crept in and possessed our souls. The sound of fists repeatedly hitting the thick, cold concrete walls rang endlessly in my ears. "Sir, if you don't stop that, we're going to have to call security." Complete silence. Everyone stared. The silence was broken with the whaling of those confined to her bedside, knowing this was not going to be a short stay. The heart wrenching screams of an angry, broken, confused mother muffled the sobs of the others. At some point I dozed off, awoke the next morning, and headed down the hall towards the hospital elevator. I stepped over the crack where the floors met, and entered. Floor 2 is where I was headed. Within seconds, I hopped out of the box and journeyed down the halls, painted a baby blue, to the cafeteria. Doctors dressed in their suits of blue spilled out of the cafeteria doors, hustling to their next victims-Yes victims. We were starved, but had no appetite. The tables were small and the harsh aroma of the hospital food turned me off. We waited for what felt like years, and finally, it was time. We hurriedly rushed back to the floor in which our nightmare was unraveling. Just as I turned the corner, the screams of a grieving mother permeated through my body and deep into my soul. "My baby!" she wept over and over and over again, begging him to take a breath-and it was over. I cracked open the door and frightfully entered, not knowing what I was about to see. I immediately wrapped my arms around Erin whispering, "I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry." A salty mixture of sweat and tears met my lips as I kissed her cheeks. He was beautiful. His eyes, a pure dark blue only found at the deepest depths of the ocean, revealing his innocence. His long, lifeless body fit perfectly into his white and blue striped Nike onesie with matching blue sweats that we had handpicked for this day many months back. His tiny feet were tucked inside his Nike booties, which too matched. I pulled back his Nike hat to find a full head of thick, dark chocolate hair peeking from within. His lips were bloodstained from facing death inside of his mother’s womb. His limp body fit perfectly in my arms. In fact, he was perfect. I held an angel sent from heaven for the very first and the very last time July 1, 2007. It was then that this nightmare became a reality for our family-The day a life belonging to my nephew, Micah Corrin King, was taken entirely too soon.
Daddy cut the umbilical cord
Micah's Footprints - Actual Size
Micah was baptized after his birth...