Selam

One of my favorite things in Ethiopia was how when passing people in any city, town, or village outside of Addis Ababa people would look us in the eye and say "Selam!" It literally means peace in Arabic and it's the way all Ethiopians greet each other. These pictures show some of the many people that I exchanged selams with.
It's a beautiful thing to be acknowledged when passing someone on the street or trail. It warms all hearts and coming back to the stone-cold faces in the U.S. made me sad. I know people here feel they're too busy to
acknowledge others or fear they'll expose themselves to
potential danger, but I've been making much more eye contact with people since being back and it feels good.

Winning

I'm not talking Charlie Sheen. More like Rafa Nadal.

I was watching the French Open final this morning, as Rafa defended his title against his rival Roger Federer. While I greatly respect Roger's talents and accomplishments, I remain a big fan of Rafael Nadal. I love his grit, his passion, his focus. He is a brute force of nature, but with the footwork of Fred Astaire and the precision of a surgeon. And he can show some delicate touch when he wants to. Rafa's focus is laser sharp, and he is determined to win. When the chips are down, he pushes even harder. You can never count him out of a point, much less a game or match.

Rafa went on to win in 4 sets. And it is only after winning the final point that Rafa releases. He collapses on the court, usually on his back but today it was on his knees.

That's what it was like for us to pass court. It was like winning a Grand Slam. In tennis, you have to win seven rounds to be the champion. For us, it had been 3 years of waiting, bureaucracy, paperwork, fingerprints, blood, sweat, and definitely tears.

The Ethiopian courts are nothing like you might imagine courts to be like in the U.S. It's more like the DMV. A random, boring building on an unremarkable street. Our bus pulled up in front and immediately there were boys lining up to shine our shoes or sell us gum. We walked up four flights of stairs to the court's waiting room. It wasn't that large, maybe 20x20. There were probably 50 people or more in there, seated on chairs that lined the walls, or standing and milling about in the middle. The signage said "quiet" but everyone was talking. Every now and then, when the din of conversation grew, a staffer would come in and shush. The room was filled with people waiting for the judge, who handles international adoption cases. But the waiting room was filled not only with other hopeful adoptive parents and their agents, but also with natives who were there to relinquish their children to the international adoption process, or who were there to testify about the circumstances under which they found an abandoned child . It was rather intense. You look around, and you realize that we're all here for the same purpose, but coming from different angles of the process.

Adoptive parents are called in with their agents in groups, by agency. The courtroom itself is no bigger than a small office. It's very plain and simple. A single steel desk at one end of the room, behind which the judge sat. An assistant stood next to her with a big stack of documents. There were four adoptive families in our group, and we sat or stood in the crowded office. We passed forward our passports. Family by family, the judge went through her stack of files. Then she asked her questions to us as a group, and we all answered in unison. Have you met the child? Will you teach your adoptive child about his roots and Ethiopian culture? Do you have children? Have you told them of the adoption? Do you understand that this decision is final?

The judge was very soft-spoken, as it seems so many Ethiopians are. Bekah couldn't hear a thing, so she left the office wondering exactly what had just happened. We came in not really expecting to pass on our first try, in part because we are just protecting our hearts but also because we knew so many other families that didn't pass court on their first try or even more. But passing court has nothing to do with our "performance" in court. It's really just a formality and they want to see that you're committed. Passing court is contingent on the Ministry of Women's Affairs, which reviews every case and writes a letter of approval.

It wasn't until we got to the bus and I recapped the events that Bekah understood what happened. "Your contract has been approved. He is yours." When Bekah heard me recount those words, she collapsed and wept. It was a beautiful moment because I knew what this was: a cathartic release. We had just won.

Rafa won his 6th French Open title, tying Bjorn Borg's record, and winning his 10th Grand Slam. He is 25 and has a lot of game left in him. We have passed court, and it feels like our journey is just beginning.

Birth certificate!

Last week, on our 9 year wedding anniversary, we received Bedilu's birth certificate which was both in Amharic and English for each item listed. It was truly amazing to see our names officially printed as his parents and it's an exciting step towards bringing him home. Next is issuing him an Ethiopian passport and then the birth certificate and passport are submitted to the U.S. embassy in Addis Ababa for review. Things are moving along!

Typical street scene in Ethiopia

More about the trip

I've come to the blog at least 20 times since being back home and find myself staring at the screen, unable to write. In part it's just taken awhile to recover from the jetlag, as it's a very long journey and a 10 hr time difference, but also it was such an intense experience - it's hard to put into words.

Meeting Bedilu was thrilling and surreal. He fell into our arms without hesitation or protest and it felt natural and meant to be. We were with one other adoptive family in the same room and they were meeting their 10 month old girl. The said they thought Bedilu really looked like a combination of Chaat and I! We were happy that he's filled out so much and doesn't seem underweight anymore. We talked to him, tried to tickle him, and stared into his beautiful eyes for the 90 min we had with him. Towards the end of our visit Chaat was holding him and sang "Hold Me Tight"by the Beatles, but balladized it. While he was singing I was looking at Bedilu, holding on to his feet, and we maintained really great eye contact for quite awhile. It was a precious moment with the three of us. Then we had to say goodbye, which of course came way too fast, and yet it wasn't quite as difficult as I expected. I think I've learned to protect my heart so many times in this process that I was actually prepared for having to leave him. Not all was rosy in meeting Bedilu; it's really difficult meeting your child in an orphanage in the 3rd world, and as much as you read about it or imagine it, there's nothing like the reality of seeing it. Conditions are extremely tough and there were some issues, but none I really want to talk about, as at this point in the homestretch it's important to stay positive.

The rest of the time in Ethiopia was spent meeting and bonding with other adoptive families (so helpful!), going on some cultural outings, seeing Lucy at the National History Museum, taking care of business with our agency, and going to court. Then we trekked in the mountains up north for a few days, stayed with locals in huts, saw some absolutely phenomenal historical sites, and really got familiar with Ethiopian culture and customs. The scenery was breathtaking and we were deeply moved by the whole experience. Ethiopia is a fascinating country and despite how incomprehensible and tragic the poverty often feels, there's a very peaceful, elegant energy that pervades the country. I felt incredibly humbled the whole time I was there and also lucky that Bedilu brought me to an amazing country that I probably would've never known otherwise.

The First Family Photos

Welcome to the family, Bedilu!
We know you've all been itching to see this. Here are a few photos to whet your appetite. But please respect our privacy and do not share or forward. Also, please refrain from making comments or references on Facebook until we "come out" with it. We've been on the DL as we decompress and process the whole experience. We'll let the world know when we're ready.

"Your contract has been approved. He is yours."

Those are the words the judge spoke at our court hearing on April 20th. Bedilu is ours!

Just a quick note to let you all know that we passed our court date. It was unexpected, as we tried to prepare for the worst and expected more delays. In December, 16 families from our agency appeared for their court date and only one passed on the first try. So we were thrilled to get through on the first pass. Now we wait for our Embassy date, when we will return to bring him home. Not sure what that timeline will be, but it could be late summer.

Bekah and I returned to California on Friday after a whirlwind two weeks in Ethiopia. The first week was dedicated to "business." We arrived on a Saturday, were given our week's itinerary and learned that we would be meeting Bedilu on Sunday. Our court date was that Wednesday. The whole experience has been rather intense, and we'll get into more of all that in another post. For now, I just wanted to give the quick update with the good news.

The second week of our trip was spent traveling around the north of Ethiopia, visiting a couple of sites on the "historical circuit." We also did a few days trekking across the highlands near Lalibela, where we got to see how most people outside of the major cities live. We've got a ton of photos and we'll share a few after we get a chance to pick the best of the hundreds we took.

We love Ethiopia and are thrilled to have had the opportunity to get to know its people, culture, landscape, and history while we were there. That said, it is SOOOO good to be back home! We missed our home, our cats, our bed, the great food, fresh produce, dairy products, the weather, my bike, and of course our friends and family.

Thanks again to everyone for your interest and support!