An important storyline, but spoiled somewhat, by insufficient research and false impressions. That, in a nutshell, is my response to the recent adoption story on Fair City. I promised to return to this subject, and have thought about it at length before writing. To briefly summarise the story, Renee Phelan had a baby thirty years ago, whom she placed for adoption. Only her parents and her best friend knew about it. Renee's husband, Christy, and the children of her marriage, Farrah and Floyd, know nothing of their sister, who is now a woman of almost thirty. Renee has cast the pregnancy and adoption, as best she can, to the back of her mind, and there it has remained, or so she thinks, until, by chance, she is reunited with her old friend, who, at the time, was her rock and her support. Upset and confused by the awakening of old wounds, she wants to find out how her daughter is doing. Her friend encourages her to contact the Agency which organised the adoption. Her first telephone call to the Agency is met with an invitation to come and meet a Social Worker the very next week. Lo and behold, her daughter has left a letter on file for her there. The Social Worker passes on a letter from Renee, back to her daughter, and in a flash, she and Heather, whom she herself had called Rose, are meeting for lunch. At home, Renee has passed off the time she spent away from the family business, as a series of visits to the doctor. The family can see that she is off form, but they have no clue of what lies behind it.

The story of Renee and Heather is a story of thousands of mothers and sons or daughters, separated by adoption. While the 'establishment', that is, the government and the adoption agencies, would have us believe, if we were to swallow it, that the urge to trace is rare, there is an abundance of evidence to show that this is not the case. Adopted children grow up. Mothers never forget their children. I'm not a woman, obviously, but I doubt that it's possible to forget that you gave birth to a tiny baby; fed, changed and bonded with him or her, and were then, willingly or not, separated from that child, to have it raised by strangers. A popular book on the psychology of adoption, refers to this separation as a 'Primal Wound'.

A good friend of mine is an adopted person, who as a teenager was forced to place her owns child for adoption. Mothers Day is tough on her, I can tell you. She longs for the day when her daughter will make the move to meet her; even to talk on the phone. There are hundreds like her. Another friend recently traced her mother. They have exchanged letters and plan to meet soon. I have never seen my friend so happy. These are real people, not soap opera characters. Fair City, one of our most popular prime-time soaps, had the chance to tell a real story of Irish life in the 21st Century. Sadly, it fell short of doing it real justice.

This happened at two levels. There were practical inaccuracies, as a result of which a false impression was given. Take Renee's first telephone call to the Adoption Agency. She was immediately told "Oh, come in next Tuesday, and we'll have a chat." It may happen, and I wouldn't rule it out, but the truth is, that it's so, so rare as to rank up there with the Miracle at Cana. The fact of the matter is that it can take months, perhaps years, to even get a first appointment. At the end of that time, the process leading to contact or reunion, is also long, painstaking and often deeply frustrating. Even being told the original name given you by your mother, can be an ordeal. That's why you read and hear so much these days about people tracing for themselves. Fair City gave the wrong impression here. Furthermore, the Social Worker, Sister Esther, was a bit too sweet to be sugar, as they say. I'm certain, in fact I know, that there are some fantastic Social Workers, but I also know that there are some very hard, uncooperative and unhelpful ones. Meeting Esther was, for Renee, like winning the lottery. In other words, rare. Fair City failed to accurately reflect the reality of the situation for a great number of people. Again, it came to the cup, but only sipped. In the actual reunion meeting with Heather, I cannot find fault. Reunions, from the many accounts I have read and been told of, can go any way. There is no pattern, no average. In this, Fair City could not have missed reflecting the norm, because there is none.

The producers also failed the viewers in a fundamental way, throughout the fortnight or so, that this storyline was running. Adoption, directly or indirectly, can be shown to touch the lives of nearly a quarter of a million Irish people. Where were the helpful telephone numbers, web addresses and e-mails at the end of the credits, for people affected by issues raised? They were absent. The relevant information was posted up, however, when Billy Meehan was beating Carol. I'll bet my last Euro that relevant contacts will be shown this week, when Marty Halpin turns nasty and kills his wife, and rightly so. They should, however, have been there too, for the men and women, mothers, sons and daughters, separated by Adoption.

If you are one of those people, you will find advice, help and friendship at this website: www.adoptionireland.com. It's the address of AdoptionIreland, the Adopted Peoples Association.