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apply to adopt again as soon
as agency regulations
permit.

T

he Kulis' story puts
yet another spin on
the boundaries of
culture, tradition and na-
tionality that the overseas
adoptions have transversed.
Neither Dorothy nor
Richard Kulis are Jewish,
but Dorothy, of Serbian des-
cent, and Richard, of
Hungarian-Serbian
heritage, have been
trailblazers for many
Detroit-area Jewish couples
who wish to adopt Roma-
nian babies. In their 40s,
both Richard, an attorney,
and Dorothy, .a psychologist,
had settled into their
childless state. At one time
they thought about adop-
ting, but were put off by
endless waiting lists and an
encounter with an
American woman who

In adoption, one
parent says "You
have to be
comfortable with
not knowing
everything:'

wanted to give up an ex-
pected set of twins — for
$50,000.
"She had her own baby
factory, it does happen in
the United States, and I
wanted no part of that," Mrs.
Kulis says. "We had exciting
professions, we entertained
and traveled, I thought we
were very happy."
That is, until last fall,
when Mrs. Kulis happened
to watch a television report
depicting the crisis among
Romania's orphan children.
She was deeply disturbed.

"I called a local Serbian
priest that I knew who had
just returned from Romania
to see if the situation was as
bad as the story made it out
to be. He assured me that
the TV story was true — and
it was worse," she says.
The telephone conversa-
tion transpired on a Wednes-
day. By Thursday night,

Dorothy and Richard Kulis
were flying to Frankfort, en
route to the town of
Timosoaria, Romania,
where the Michigan priest
knew of a reputable
orphanage.
Nothing could have
prepared the Kulises for
what they found. "The or-
phanage, in a state of decay,
had rusted locks hanging
loose on the doors. The first
floor was devoted to infants
under the age of 1 year, 60
in all, sometimes two to a
bed," Mrs. Kulis recalls.
"They looked like little
bundles of rags!"
The stench of urine and
feces was horrific, but the
worst part was the quiet.
There was no noise from the
60 infants, no lusty cries, no
coos, no whimpers.
"The ratio of attendants
was one to every 20 infants,
and sometimes they came to
work, sometimes not," Mrs.
Kulis says. As a conse-
quence, the babies are
changed once a day, kept on
their backs even after
feedings, and get their noses
severely pinched if they start
to cry.
A woman working in the
orphanage office tried to
plant seeds of doubt about
adopting, but the Kulises
felt unafraid. "Once you see
something like this, it
changes you forever," Mrs.
Kulis says.
The Kulises would have to
talk to the biological
parents themselves to ob-
tain a release for adoption,
so the attending doctor did
not let them see any of the
babies until that was ar-
ranged. He told them of a
set of twins who had been
separated since birth but
who he felt would be
healthy. Another orphanage
employee spoke of a
"beautiful baby," either of
which they might consider
adopting.
The Kulises set out to find
the birth parents. The
twins' mother didn't want
anyone to know the children
were alive, as she was hop-
ing to emigrate from

Romania. She had informa-
tion about the biological
father who was Serbian; but
as they were not married, he
had no custody rights under
Romanian law. She was not
overly concerned about
money.
The mother of the
"beautiful" baby, newly
pregnant again, made the
Kulises feel she was selling
the child for whatever the
traffic would bear. After a
week in Romania and an all-
day ordeal with the two
biological mothers, the
Kulises returned to the or-
phanage, settled on adop-
ting the twins.
"Our first interaction
lasted five hours, and they
didn't stir," Mrs. Kulis
remembers. By the end of
the second interaction the
next day, the twins, dressed
in soiled, shabby outfits,
were still quiet, but feebly
reached out for each other.
Having done nothing to
prepare for either a
domestic or an orphan im-
migrant adoption, Dorothy
and Richard Kulis returned
to Michigan, promising to
help the doctor by filling his
request for supplies.
"We only knew of one
other couple who had done
this. I needed a home study,
fast;' Mrs. Kulis says. She
began searching through
the phone book. Jewish
Family Service was her
third phone call, and Esther
Krystal told her she would
try to speed up the usual
month-long process.
Ten days later, the home
study was completed.
Richard Kulis stayed in
Detroit to take care of the
paperwork, which turned in-
to 300 documents in all. His
wife went back to
Timosoaria, armed with the
supplies that the doctor had
requested, including 800
disposable diapers, syringes
and gowns donated by Sinai
Hospital, disinfectant, soap
and a six-month supply of
powdered Enfamil with iron,
donated by Thrifty Drugs,
through the auspices of
Jewish Family Service.

THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS

27

