JFS has 30 couples on
the waiting list, and
would-be adoptive
parents should expect a
three-year wait.

Jewish alike, have delayed
children until the degrees
are completed, the dream
house is purchased and the
job promotions start to
materialize. As a result,
couples often do not think
about starting families in
earnest until their thirties,
and a significant number of
late-starters are finding
that they run into fertility
problems.
By the time these couples
have gone through tedious
batteries of medical work-
ups and fertility tests, their
biological clocks are ticking
with a deafening roar.
"Infertility is almost like
a death," says adoptive
parent Isabelle Horon
Feinberg. "You have to
mourn the loss of that
dream before you can move
on: ,

F

or the Feinbergs, the
time to move on came
when they attended
an adoption fair sponsored
by several social agencies in
the Baltimore area, where
they were living at the time.
"There were several
speakers that day including
one from LAPA, Latin
American Parents Associa-
tion, who presented the im-
portant questions:" Mrs.
Feinberg recalls. "How do
you feel about having a
child that does not look at
all like you? What is it like
to suddenly become a bi-
racial family? But they also
talked about what it feels
like to have a baby placed in
your arms for the first time."
The Feinbergs began to
narrow their search to Latin
America, as they knew
other couples in Baltimore
who had adopted infants
there. They did a lot of
homework and studied fact
sheets. There were different
countries, different or-
phanages and an enormous
variation in requirements.
A few had religious
stipulations, some allowed
single parent adoptions,
most wanted the parents to
spend time in- the country,
staying near the orphanage

26

FRIDAY, JUNE 21, 1991

while arranging for the visa
and legalities in the local
court. And all demanded
endless documents. These
included letters from doc-
tors, employers, personal
references, family histories,
home studies, fingerprints
authenticated by the FBI,
even the couple's marriage
license — 14 documents
which needed to be vali-
dated by two countries.
Despite the red tape, the
Feinbergs were able to meet
Mark for the first time
about seven months after
they attended the adoption
fair.
The Feinbergs considered
the six weeks they spent in
Bogota, boarding at the
home of an expatriate
American, an adventure.
They were impressed with
the workers at the or-
phanage who cared for
Mark, kind people who
worked wonders with
limited resources, they say.
Like the Feinbergs, the
Shores' Korean adoption of
Douglas required moun-
tains of paperwork.
"You have to give up your
last shred of privacy to go
through this," Mrs. Shore
says.
Korean adoptions date
back to the aftermath of the
Korean War and the work of
Henry Holt, an Oregon mis-
sionary. The Korean organ-
ization that developed, Holt
International, is organized
and deals with American
agencies representing adop-
tive parents rather than
with parents themselves. It
supplies escorts to travel
with the children to their
new destinations, then ar-
ranges for local "greeters"
to meet the children as they
are ready to deplane. Many
Jewish couples in particular
have been attracted to
Korean adoptions, noting
generally high. Asian I.Q.s
and a strong, relatively
drug-free culture as impor-
tant considerations. At pre-
sent, however,. Korea has
become a tenuous source in
this international teeter-

totter of supply and
demand.
"South Korea has been
steadily industrializing, and
has been taken off the Third
World roster of nations,"
Mrs. Shore says.
Observers say a great deal
of anti-foreign adoption sen-
timent is brewing in govern-
ment circles, and if the two
Koreas ever do unite, it may
very well dry up. North
Koreans in particular feel it
is a national shame to be ex-
porting children.
Even with a bit of pro-
crastination, when it came
time for the Shores to write
their requisite autobiogra-
phies, the procedure was
completed within 12 months
of their application.
The Shores worked
through Foreign Adoption
Consultants, one of three
Michigan-based agencies
that handle Korean adop-
tions. They and the Fein-
bergs had ritual circumci-
sions for their sons. Mohel S.
Greenbaum and pediatric

surgeon Evan Kass par-
ticipated in Douglas Shore's
brit; Mark Feinberg had a
brit and conversion
ceremony in Baltimore and
attends Hebrew school in
Ann Arbor. Rachel Feinberg
had a ritual conversion and
a naming ceremony, "just in
case she ever wants to settle
in Israel;' says her mother,
Isabelle, who was raised in
an Orthodox household.
"(Adopted) .boy babies
need a circumcision for the
purposes of conversion,
called a brit l'shem gerut,"
explains Rabbi Robert
Doubrusin of Congregation
Beth Israel, a Conservative
congregation in Ann Arbor.
"Whenever the baby is
ready — we take the baby to
the mikvah. I prefer to do
this as early as possible,
within the first year, as long
as the parents feel comfor-
table with this.
"With girl babies, we per-
form the conversion at the
mikvah with a naming cere-
mony after that, either at

the mikvah or at the syna-
gogue. For girls the naming
should be done after the
mikvah," he says.
"I have participated in
about a half dozen of these
foreign adoptions in my rab-
binical career. They are
becoming more and more
common in the community,
and I think it is wonderful."
Both the Shores and the
Feinbergs say they have con-
fronted the issue of a bi-
racial family.
"You go into a mall or a
restaurant and you notice
other children and who they
look like, but we've had such
wonderful reactions," Mrs.
Shore says. "Everyone we
know knows someone who
has done this. My parents
came up from Florida when
Douglas arrived in Novem-
ber, and then again two
times in the dead of winter.
They wanted to see this kid.
I look at him and I think
he's my son. I don't think
about what race he is," says
Mrs. Shore, who plans to

Helen and David Shore with Douglas: "I look at him and I think he's my son. I don't think about
what race he is."

