100 Books Like Twenty Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Adoptive Parents Knew

This book is the ONE book that would have helped me the most in the early days after I brought my adopted baby home from the hospital. My beautiful, healthy three-day-old baby was unhappy, fussy, and cried all the time. Little did I know that she was missing her birth mom. I was told by the adoption counselors that this baby was a clean slate, and I would do all the loving and nurturing and could raise her as if I gave birth to her. 

Verrier explained so much about how the wound that my child still carries with her today affects her behaviors. And she also gave me hope and insights that acknowledging the wound can lead to healing and hope even when the trauma cannot be erased. 

Reading this book, I felt like I was sitting on a comfy couch in the presence of a caring and wise therapist. I liked how Lori Holden shares her own open adoption experiences along with providing a world of well researched advice. Having lived two open adoptions myself, I thought I was an expert, but this book gave me some surprising ah-ha moments.

I found the book easy to navigate each topic and did not want to skip over any of them. I liked how this book showed so many examples of how adoptive and birth parents navigate openness. It reinforced that it is not about me (the adopted parent)—it is about the child! I loved that Lori reminded me that I am strong. 

I love that this book is written as a children’s book yet is packed with practical advice, resources, and insights for adoptive and foster parents and the therapists that support them. 

At first glance, I thought it was nothing more than a sweet illustrated children’s book about adoption, but the second part, “Putting the Pieces Together,” blew me away. I especially related to the topic: “When you talk about my birth family, it is a reflection of me. If you think that my birth family is ‘bad,’ then I may think that a part of me is ‘bad.’” I only wish I had this book when my adopted children were little, but I do not think it is ever too late to learn and apply.

Leah’s open adoption story had so many parallels to my own family's open adoption story that I found comfort and familiarity in her journey. I imagined my own adopted children’s birth moms going through many of the same thoughts and feelings that Leah described. I cried for Leah, for my children’s birth moms, and for all the birth moms. 

This was an emotional but important read for me. I especially loved the part toward the end where Leah was able to share her current relationship with her eighteen-year-old birth daughter. Adoption should always be about what is best for the adopted child, and Leah shares all the pain and joy equally. It solidified my own conviction that I want my children to get closer to their birth moms. 

Because of my own work as an adoption writer and advocate for open adoption records, I knew each of these writers from webinars, podcasts, conferences, and social media. Combining their varied backgrounds and experiences–Sara is an adoptee, Kelsey is a birth parent, and Lori is an adoptive parent–was thrilling to read.

I devoured each of the thoughtful interviews and the candid responses the authors compiled and presented. Like these authors, I believe that by working together with truth and transparency, it is possible to move adoption forward toward a healing place.

I love this book because, beyond the fabulous, richly layered story, it takes what should be unlikeable characters and makes you root for them. April Epner is flawed—brittle, sarcastic and closed off at times—but I love her.

As a reader, I can understand why she is the way she is, and that’s the key to making her sympathetic and likable. The payoff is so satisfying when April makes a deep emotional connection and opens up. Bernice Graverman, April’s newfound biological mom, is tacky, loud and over the top, and yet, I was rooting for her. She has a tough shell, but there’s a touching hidden vulnerability.

One more thing I loved about this book…I lived in Quincy, MA (outside of Boston), where this story is set, for five years—it perfectly captures what life was like there in the nineties.

As I‘ve said, I love foreign-set thrillers, especially the ones set in England. And this was another book I devoured. 

Although the suspense and intrigue of the plot kept me glued to the pages, I had to put it down multiple times as I went through a range of emotions reading about black women and girls being let down, hurt, and preyed upon by the people meant to protect them.

I eagerly followed Eva’s journey, not just to find her birth mother and reclaim her identity, which was literally cut from her, but to expose the chilling truth of why four black women went missing, and the police didn’t look for them. 

This book was a sad reminder of how easily black women and girls fall through the cracks unnoticed.

Hata, a Korean, adopted by a Japanese couple, serves the Japanese Army as a medic in World War II. His job is to care for enslaved Koreans who serve as “comfort women” to Japanese soldiers. His experiences are the material of nightmares. Years later he leads a deceptively quiet life in a small town in New Jersey with his Korean adoptive daughter. It is deceptively quiet because his unresolved war experiences, presented in flashbacks, haunt him. I admired the abrupt manner in which Chang-Rae Lee interrupted Hata’s uneventful life with horrific memories.

The author’s method felt like the triggering of those who have suffered trauma and continue to relive events as PTSD. This approach of interweaving past with present inspired my depiction of a young German woman living a quiet life on a primitive Icelandic farm, milking the cows and raking the hay, while being repeatedly interrupted by memories of… show more.

I used to work as an oncology RN so I generally avoid cancer stories, but this author is a friend so I gave the book a chance, and wow am I glad I did. This story manages to capture the crushing reality of cancer for both the patient and the people who love her, but it’s also funny and mysterious and romantic, with plenty of meaningful things to say about grief. It takes insight and compassion to balance all those elements without ever being disrespectful to or flippant about terminal illness. I powered through this gorgeous book (the cover is even more incredible in person!) in one sitting and finished the story feeling hopeful and inspired.

This recommendation returns to one of my most passionate interests—that of adopted children and the families they are placed in. Beatty is a poet and this is reflected in her memoir—it is not the usual chronological narrative as most memoirs are. She breaks the myth of the “special” or “chosen baby” to tell her truth of the lives of adopted children. Beatty exposes, through vignettes and her poetry, her meetings with her birth mother, her adopted family, her attempts to know who she is and where she came from. She breaks open the belief that you can “create” a perfect family using children from other birth mothers, when all her life, she feels, is a lie and she has no grounding in the world. This memoir is her quest to find out who she is.