When we returned home from China with Katherine in 1996, I was, of course, exhausted, but also amazed and exhilarated at this beautiful being who was our daughter. During our trip, my senses had been so heightened -- smells, sounds, taste, touch -- and I was aware that I wanted to remember everything to tell her later. I tried to write a letter to her about the trip shortly after we returned home, but was overwhelmed. I had loved the way her clothes smelled when she was placed in my arms (a sort of brand-new-polyester-with-mild-incense combination) and instead of washing them, I double-bagged them in two zip-loc bags, thinking she could at least have the smell when she was older. At the time, it was the best I could do to preserve and record a moment in her life.
I thought I had a sense of what a lifebook was -- something like a scrapbook, tells a child's story with words and pictures, something she'll have forever. Even our first year home, I wanted to make one. We had made a number of photo albums, but not "The Lifebook". I mail-ordered an enormous red leather scrapbook with all four of Katherine's names embossed in gold, and I had a vision of us sitting quietly on our couch in sunlight turning page after page of this wonderful book.
Little did I know then of how readily food mixes with books, of toddlers' short attention spans, and most importantly, what a lifebook is really about. It's actually how I got into FCC/NE's Lifebook Project - yes, for the benefit of FCC, but really for us!
Nancy Nies, my co-chair on FCC/NE's Pre-school Education Committee, and I had been talking about how to talk to young children about adoption, how to tell our daughters their stories, and about lifebooks. I had read Lois Melina's writings, When You Were Born in China, and attended adoption lifebook workshops. I still couldn't get started. It wasn't until Nancy and I attended a Lifebook Workshop at Concord Family Services in Concord, MA, given by Debbie Flanders and Cindy Probst, that it all started to fall into place.
After an introduction to lifebooks, the workshop group separated into those that had adopted domestically and those that had adopted internationally, and almost our entire smaller group had daughters from China. It was remarkable -- everyone in the room was thinking about the same issues: "how do I tell her this? how will this make her feel about being female? but I really don't know anything of her life before we adopted her! where do I start? I'm not sure I believe what we were told". And Cindy Probst - well, not only being an extremely thoughtful social worker but an FCC mother, she "got it".
So what did we learn? That you start at the beginning, at birth or even earlier. That you use the words birthmother and birthfather, even with very young children. That it's never too early for a child to have a lifebook. That even if you don't know much, you know something, and it's best to get it down soon, because we do forget! That your travel group friends can help you remember certain facts. That there are ways to talk about abandonment, even with young children. That it is so important for her to know about the part of her life before she met you. That parents become comfortable with the words as they write the book. That there's no single right way to make a lifebook, that it can be far from a masterpiece, and using color photocopies and page protectors is good. And importantly, that the book is just for your child. The book, and the story, are hers.
After the session, we asked Cindy Probst to work with us to develop Lifebook Sessions for FCC/NE. We've put together a Lifebook Session model where a small group of parents can feel safe to simply listen and talk if they choose, with a facilitator guiding the session and a social worker presenting the core material, discussing the "tough" parts, and answering questions.
The FCC/NE Lifebook Sessions have really been amazing - sometimes tears, and always wonderful stories. Our children are so strong, and their stories powerful. Some people come thinking there are things that they simply cannot tell, or at least don't know how to tell, and leave realizing that they can. We have also had waiting parents come, sometimes with their assignment pictures. They are so ready, and to already be thinking about how to talk to their daughter about her life is very moving.
My daughter's enormous leather "non-Life" book is empty, in a closet -- maybe she'll be able to lift it when she's six, and we could put her paintings or something in it. Her actual Lifebook has refillable pages with sheet protectors. It's got color photocopies instead of originals and it's o.k. if there are graham cracker crumbs in it. No, it's not done yet, but the parts I thought would be so difficult to write are done. Katherine helped me assemble parts of it, choosing colors, and asking questions. In the making of it, we both got used to the words. I don't falter so much when explaining something. I wasn't totally baffled when she called from the car seat at three years old: "where's my birthmother? Is she in China?". I could simply answer "yes, she is."