When My Childhood Became Public

What if you decided to make stories from your own life public for the world to see? Stories you had never shared with family, friends, or even some of the people closest to you. That was the decision I faced when I self-published Marked by Adoption at 19 years old. For years, many of the thoughts, questions, and experiences I had about adoption lived only in my head. Some were difficult to explain. Others were things I had never put into words before. Writing the book forced me to do both.

I did not write Marked by Adoption because I had all the answers. In many ways, I wrote it because I was still searching for them. I simply knew that if sharing my story helped one person feel seen, understood, or less alone, then it would be worth it. In the prologue, I make that clear. I tell readers that I do not have the answers. These are my experiences, observations, and reflections. Take them for what they are worth. When I published the book, I had no guarantee anyone would pick it up. There was also no way to take it back. Once those stories were published, they were no longer just mine. They became part of a larger conversation that anyone could agree with, disagree with, or interpret differently.

Perhaps what surprised me most was what happened after publication. The conversations began. Readers shared their own stories, perspectives, and experiences. I started receiving messages from readers. I saw photos of pages highlighted, notes written in the margins, and passages that resonated with people in ways I never anticipated. The book was doing far more than I had ever imagined. It was becoming part of conversations I was not in the room to hear.

Looking back, publishing the book was never really about becoming an author. It was about sharing experiences in the hope that someone else might feel a little less alone.

Over the past year, that decision has taken me places I never expected. The book became an Amazon #1 New Release, reached readers internationally, led to media appearances, received letters of congratulations from Nebraska senators and the Governor, found its way into public and educational libraries, and was ultimately accepted into the Library of Congress.

While those milestones have been incredible, they are not what I am most proud of. What means the most are the messages from readers who found something in the book that helped them better understand adoption, themselves, or someone they love.

More than a year later, the goal remains the same as it was on day one: help the next kid.