Lifebooks & Lip Smacking Stories

by Beth O'Malley, M.Ed.
© 2001, All rights reserved

My first LifeBook was inspired by a three year old with the AIDS virus. Her birth mother was still alive, but signs were present that she would not live for long. Almost certainly, this toddler would live long enough to have questions: "Do I look like my birthday Mom?" "What was her favorite color?"

Little Arlene needed a LifeBook. I sat with her birth mother and a translator, taking pictures, getting stories, and convincing her to write a long letter, in Creole, to her daughter. That LifeBook became her legacy.

It was 1994, and the clock was ticking. There were children, some (like Arlene) literally dying, and all of them trapped in anxiety and sadness, waiting for their workers and caregivers to learn the language of adoption.

A co-worker at the Massachusetts Department of Social Services had explained to me the complex contents of the legal packet. When she casually added, "and don't forget about the LifeBook," I asked, "The what book?"

"The LifeBook. You take children's lives and turn them into kids' stories, their own stories. It's cute. Try to find some pictures to go into it."

"Great idea," I thought, "but who has the time? And how do you translate abuse or rejection for a five year old? And what if there have been ten placements? No LifeBooks for this adoption worker." Note: These are the sensitive thoughts of a social worker who spent the first five months of her life in foster care before being adopted.

Being adopted did not lend itself to golden explanations of why children aren't with their first families or where babies come from. The words were stuck in my throat. Where to begin?

I walked through my fears on the wording, with help from my supervisor at work:

"This disease meant that your mommy's blood could not fight illnesses. She became sicker as the years passed. Doctors do not know how to make people better who have this disease. Some people live longer with this disease than others."

In the beginning, what helped me a great deal was a set format. The experienced LifeBook writers in my office had created a template of sorts. It included:

the child's birth,
the child's birth certificate (check your state's regulations).
information about the birth parents and birth siblings,
reason the child was placed,
placements,
blessing page at the end.

Within this template, the child's birth page was very upbeat, in order to increase self esteem. "When you were born, the doctors oohed and aaahed." I never liked this line. So many of our children were tiny drug addicted babies, fighting for their lives. It just didn't seem to ring true. LifeBooks are supposed to be about the truth.

Lifebook Truths

If you don't know something for sure, never lie. It is acceptable to say, "I'll bet that..."

"I'll bet that your birth mother was very happy to have given birth to such a beautiful baby girl, but she must have felt sad and confused because of her problems with bad drugs."

One LifeBook truth is that it's powerful to make the LifeBook with the child. Grab a quiet space, and always bring crayons and markers. Sometimes younger kids enjoy dictating while you write. You can pretend they're guests on a talk show and interview them. Others like it when you take their words in to the office and return with neat, typewritten pages.

My initial LifeBook sessions with children were brutal. I had never stopped putting out fires long enough to really see my cases through the children's eyes, or to feel their pain. My reaction to LifeBook work with children was quite strong. This was something my co-workers did not share. My 'adoption' buttons were getting pushed. I started to wonder what those doctors had to say when I was born. What were my baby facts? The journey began.

It was a short trip. I tracked down my foster care notes painlessly. No identifying information could be released. It was a thin file but the social worker found this one story tucked away:

Your second foster family reported to the social worker that you used to sit and make these funny lip smacking sounds with your lips. The whole family would watch and laugh while you smacked.

You mean, I was a real baby who did cute things like smack my lips? What a wonderful image. I could picture it as if I had been standing there. How normal. Those words became my earliest baby photo, which I carried around in my heart.

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