When I think of you, I think of fried chicken...and sweet tea...and Grey's Anatomy. While we existed in our little cocoon of hospital life for the most part it was just you and me, Bubba. And while that time was certainly stressful, it was also very sweet. And maybe a little unhealthy. But you were safe in my belly, Meredith Grey provided an escape from our worries and quite frankly that hospital could give the Colonel a run for his money in the chicken and tea department.
It was a little shocking then, once you were on the outside and I watched them wheel you away. Something that had literally been a part of me for all of those weeks now seemed a little bit...other. That feeling of otherness immediately washed away the minute I held you in my arms. You were once again so totally mine and a feeling came over me, as I've described before, as simply "Heaven".
When you had to leave me again, I fought so hard against the "otherness". It was the hardest thing I've ever been through, not to have you here with me. But somehow, over the seven years (seven!!!) little boy, you are with me again. There is not one thing- not one- that I do you are not a part of. Not a decision I make as a mother, as a wife, as a person who tries to leave the world a better place. That is all because I carry you inside of me. Just as I did all of those months and weeks seven years ago.
Over time I've come to realize - I will always, always carry you Rip Harris. No matter where you are.
Happy Birthday- I hope there is plenty of fried chicken and sweet tea (you are still too young for Grey's Anatomy).