The best books about adoption

Firstly the cover says it all. “The true story of how one baby found his home.” A baby abandoned in the subway is found by Danny, who falls in love with the little guy and convinces his partner to be a foster parent. The couple is broke, but the family rallies with diapers, a crib, etc. I love seeing a gay couple fully loved and supported by extended family and even the justice system. I read this book by myself and smile every time. This is the way the world should be. All accepted and loved. I wish I could have read a book like this to my kids 30 years ago. The book ends with a picture of a real grown-up Kevin and his dads which make the book even more special. The illustrations are fabulous.

This explosive exposé of an illegal trade that was hidden in plain sight was the first account of the lucrative practice of baby trafficking in Irish Magdalene laundries. It was run for profit by Irish nuns, administered by civil servants who doctored documents, and approved by bishops and politicians who kept it secret.

Mike Milotte’s exposé caused a sensation that was published in 1997. But, just like I felt about my book, he regarded the book as unfinished business. Therefore, in recent years he has published a revised edition incorporating many previously untold personal uncovered in the intervening period, as the full extent of his secretive child trade became known, with rich Americans visiting orphanages to pick babies to bring home with falsified documents, in exchange for generous donations to the nuns.

This quirky debut novel features one of my favourite ever heroines.

Fourteen-year-old Jackie is a funny, feisty would-be poet, who finds herself a fish out of water when she's placed with a foster family very different from her own, with a teenage daughter who hates her. It's set in 1970s England, when I was the same age as Jackie is, so it was a lovely nostalgic read.

It's based on the author's own experience of being fostered, and knowing that made the story even more poignant - it made me laugh and cry.

As a therapist, longtime foster/adoption advocate, and fost/adopt mama, I’m always looking for books that help adults have healthy, child-driven conversations with kids. More than most, kids in foster care and adoptive placements need safe spaces to feel their feelings, navigate life changes, and experience caring adults. Debut author Whitney Bunker brings her personal experiences as a foster/adoptive mama and Executive Director / Co-Founder of City Without Orphans to do just that. We Can Talk About It shows kids that the healthy, supportive adults in their lives are safe places for the questions that will come, while simultaneously modeling for adults how to be that safe place. This book is just one of many beautiful ways Bunker and her organization seek to serve hurting but hopeful families.

This book is powerful. When three biological siblings find one another they’re all at different stages.

Grace, at sixteen, has just given birth. Joaquin, the older brother, has bounced around foster care homes. And the youngest, Maya, searches for traces of herself in her new bio siblings. I imagine all kids who are adopted, at some point, struggle with why they were given up. These three are no different, but they are so dynamic and lovable, and despite Joaquin’s struggles, he shines as an older brother who wants nothing but the best for his sisters.

Watching these kids love each other is, in a way, watching them learn to love themselves, and it’s so darn beautiful. 

This fun, heartfelt story is about a middle school girl, Aven, that was born without arms. When her family moves to Arizona, she has to start over and make new friends. Moving is challenging for any kid, but especially difficult if you are in middle school and look very different from your peers.

Aven is funny, authentic, and self-aware. Watching her navigate the challenges in her life is inspiring and encourages readers to question their assumptions and judgments about themselves and others. This story includes a mystery, some adventure, as well as a beautiful reflection on acceptance and friendship.

Aside from the fun coincidence that I share my surname with the lake in this book, I fell in love on page one because one of the narrators is actually the lake! Chapters alternate between Renn Lake and 12-year-old Annalise, whose family owns lakeside cabins. Annalise has always felt a special connection to this water. When a toxic algae bloom threatens Renn Lake, she and her friends fight to save it. I grew up on a lake in Washington State that became clogged with Eurasian Milfoil, a highly invasive plant affecting water quality, fish, and other things. Remembering what it felt like to see my local lake transform, and how powerless I felt to help it, I rooted for Annalise and her friends and felt hope for this new generation of activists.

Matilda—both in prose and musical form—is one of my favorite stories about bullies getting what’s coming to them, and the victim emerging with a better life.

Matilda’s parents and older brother are terrible people; her schoolmates and headmistress are not any better. But Matilda has a champion—an ally—in her corner: her teacher Miss Honey. With the confidence and support that just one friend brings, Matilda stands up to all the others.

She speaks up for herself and won’t let the bullies get away with their bad behavior. In doing so, she charts a happier course for her life—an end result to which anyone who’s being bullied can aspire.

Gosh, I can’t even tell you all the mothering-related reasons I love this book without giving away spoilers.

Suffice it to say, Little Fires has at least two complex mother characters with a lot to say about our responsibilities to our children and ourselves. I thought of Elena Richardson a lot when writing Sheryl’s character in my book.

Even when we sacrifice most of ourselves to do everything “right” as mothers, the end result can still be calamity and loss. It doesn’t get much gnarlier than that.

After his adoption was finalised, 8-year-old Cai asked his mother to help him create a story to share with his friends, to explain his story, and together they used his words to create Reuben’s Story. The short, powerful story is written in “Reuben’s” voice, discussing the events that led to him being in foster care, then adopted. He talks in a matter-of-fact way, as 8-year-olds do, about things that 8-year-olds should never experience, and about his life after adoption. I initially bought this for my children, but read it myself first and found it incredibly moving. I recommend that all adoptive parents read it, especially those who adopted older children. 

Football is replete with characters and opinions.

The individual at the heart of this book, the legendary football manager, Brian Clough, had no shortage of either.

However, what is extraordinary about this book is that it introduces the reader to an entirely different version of Clough than the one we are most familiar with from the media.

It is a remarkable and scarcely credible story, one which is moving, and which highlights the kindness of the man, his family, and of many of the then players and employees of Nottingham Forest.

It also reminds us just how distant football, its clubs, and its star players and managers, have become from their people in recent decades.

Sunny is one of four books in Reynold’s Track series. Each focuses on a member of the team. Sunny is extremely likable with his quiet voice and big—boomtickaboomboom—heart. He is home-schooled and raised by his father after his mother died in childbirth. Sunny’s journey is accepting that he did not kill her. It’s a poignant story told with the lyrical charm that belongs to Jason Reynolds.

In her book Belonging: A Memoir of Place, along with her personal journey, Corless shares her research and activism work towards justice for the lost babies of the Tuam Mother Baby Home. Her book is an excellent resource to learn about the institutions where unmarried mothers paid their penance and gave birth to their “illegitimate” children. Her book includes heart-wrenching accounts from former residents. 

I’ve had several exchanges with Catherine since 2010 when she responded to a query I had posted regarding the Tuam Mother Baby Home. Catherine Corless has brought worldwide attention to a scandal she uncovered: 796 missing burial records of children born in the Tuam Mother Baby Home.

The title offers an important hint that the focus isn’t solely on exterior events. In this sequel to The War That Saved My Life, World War II still rages across the English countryside, though Ada’s actually emotionally safer than she’d ever been when living with her mother. But memories of that time still give her terrible nightmares, and when a crisis makes her feel like they’re coming true, she discovers that there’s a big difference between fear and what you do with it. The horses, the lushly-depicted historical landscape, and a truly relatable and beautifully-wrought battle with the wars we carry inside make this a book I want to read over and over.

First of all, Nia Vardalos is just hilarious. She could write an Ikea assembly brochure and it would probably be side-splitting. But in the book, she tells about being a rising star (a great story on its own) who had it all – except a baby. After a grueling battle with infertility, she eventually came around to the idea of adoption, and started to learn more about the fost-adopt process of taking an older child who is unlikely to reunite with their original family. With great heart, she tells the roller-coaster story of bringing a 3-year-old with attachment challenges into her life—and the inevitable universality of motherhood. “Nothing prepared me for the life I would feel for my child. Nothing prepared me for how quickly it happened for me. And here’s what I just figure out now: no one is ever prepared. In a way, we’re all instant moms.” She’s… show more.

This story is told in such an unusual way!

Medema writes in-verse as well as uses emails, texts, and Google searches to tell the story of a teen who finds out that yes, she really is the odd one out in her family because her dad is not actually her father. She and the heart-wrenching Kodiak Jones take us through what it means to find the people you love, whether they are actual blood-relations or not. If you’re not sobbing at the end of this book…

Addie Ramirez, the main character of Tumble, is the kind of girl who takes charge of her situation—whether it’s searching for her father or meeting new people or speaking her mind about wrestling.

I felt such a personal connection to Addie; she loves her stepdad, but she still wonders about her father and embarks on a journey to find him and get to know him. And along the way, she meets her wrestling family and learns firsthand how powerful women wrestlers can be.

I loved that readers get to see powerful women in a sport traditionally dominated by men!

I recommend this book as it explains what to take into consideration when trying to understand the adopted child. I am adopted and did not realise that a lot of the lifelong trauma I have felt was related to adoption. It is a must-read for adopted people, adoptive families, birth parents, and adoption professionals. 

Sandefer, a foster mama herself, wanted to give other foster parents words of comfort to give to their own hurting foster children. Love You From Right Here does just that. Kids in foster care have had so many choices taken from them. I love how this book gives some back. Sandefer has created a place where children can see another child’s agency protected and cared for, where the adult invites (instead of forces) and the child responds when he or she is ready. Sandefer’s story does a beautiful job of illustrating that trust and safety aren’t to be rushed, but developed through patience, kindness, and empathy. Kids and adults need this book.

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.