There are certain conversations that adoptive parents can find difficult. One such classic: ‘Oh, she’s going to have her mother’s good looks, isn’t she?’

Does that mean we can’t or shouldn’t have these discussions with our children, albeit using different noun phrases and at a slightly different angle? ‘Yes, X-,’ we might find ourselves saying, for example, ‘You’ve got your birth mother’s eyes/hair/nose’ [circle and/or delete as appropriate].

I am, to use the neologism, ‘conflicted’ when it comes to the issue of ‘contact’ between adopted kids and blood relatives. I’m not sure how it works everywhere – somehow I doubt it happens much in international adoption – but in many instances I know of there is an arrangement/agreement to keep all three arms of the adoption ‘triad’ in dialogue: birth parents, adopters, adoptees.

The arrangement can be individualised in any number of ways, depending on the circumstances, but essentially it boils down to either regular letters [one- or two- way], face-to-face meetings, a mixture of both, or none. Some expression of intent for how contact should happen is usually set out as part of the legal orders when the formal adoption takes place.

In theory the arrangement is in the adopted child’s best interest because it keeps the lines of communication open and gives both child and adoptive parent a way into talking about the adoption.

Thus those odd, slightly tangential conversations I referred to earlier can take place more successfully, or at least with more information behind them. The child, and the adopters, will have a much clearer idea about, for example, physical characteristics having met or at least corresponded with [and possibly received pictures] from the biological mother and/or father.

And if in fact child X grows up having stayed in touch with birth mum and/or dad then he or she will gradually form their own opinion of them. It will be a realistic opinion, untainted by magical thinking ['I'm really a princess and one day my mummy the Queen will come to rescue me'] and free of any bias, whether intentional or non-intentional, imparted by the adoptive parents. That’s the theory, anyway.

Contact is a difficult area. It’s one that many potential adopters are put off by, and also an issue that many people in the wider population are reluctant to accept, I suspect partly on moral grounds. ['They've (the birth parents) had their chance: it'll only mess things up to go back to them now.']

However, the logic behind it is sound – if you accept the theory that it is in the child’s interests. To extend the analogy of The Primal Wound, it’s better for the child to keep reopening the wound, letting it heal gradually from the bottom up, rather than allowing it to close over and risking the development of an abscess.

The trouble is that contact so often appears to be more in the birth parents’ interest. Contact stories I’ve come across often end with hyped up/hyperanxious, overloaded children, while the adoptive parent rages that the birth family have broken the terms of the agreement, either by being late, or arriving pissed and/or stoned or subverting children through sneaky gifts and suggestions. At different times many people – some adoptive parents and some interested observers such as family friends – have said that contact simply doesn’t work.

There’s huge potential for cock-up, too. Over at the Adoption UK website there’s a thread on the message board about social services mistakenly sending birth parents’ the addresses of their adopted kids’ new homes. That is most definitely not the kind of stress that a family needs to have in their lives!

Yet contact may prove to be of value eventually, despite all the heartache. What about the child adopted young who doesn’t remember his/her birth parents but grows up with regular contact through birth siblings placed with other families, or in different parts of the country? This type of relationship could be of massive help to a young man or woman trying to work through identity issues, especially if his/her adoptive parents never met biological mum and/or dad.

It is a dilemma, and there are no easy answers. Actually, I’m beginning to think that there are no answers, full stop. Perhaps all you can do is make sure that when your child asks about ‘tummy’ mummy or daddy you can look them in the eye and say you did your best and found out as much about them as you could.

In the meantime, there are other conversations about identity that adoptive parents can also have with their kids. Here are two examples: ‘Aren’t you generous, X- – just like daddy?’. And: ‘Yes, you’re a brilliant cook: you love sharing time in the kitchen with mummy, don’t you?’

G- and I are both bookworms, and so I thought it might be useful/interesting/not completely dull to list some of our recommended books on parenting.

Then I remembered that one of the things we had to do way back when we went to our adoption panel to be approved for a child was to provide a reading list.

Don’t ask me why [perhaps it was just to show what swots we are]. The panel certainly didn’t – ask us about our reading, I mean. [Perhaps they could tell - that we were swots, I mean.]

So was it a complete waste of time? Well, almost but not quite, because I can now save myself a bit of effort and cut and paste the list.

• Archer C. First steps in parenting the child who hurts. Jessica Kingsley Publishers 1999.
• Campbell N. Blue-eyed son. Pan 2005.
• Cleese J, Skynner R. Families and how to survive them. Vermillion 1993
• Fahlberg V. A child’s journey through placement. BAAF 1994
• Ford G. The contented toddler years. Vermillion 2006
• Faber A, Mazlish E. How to talk so kids will listen and listen so kids will talk. Piccadilly Press, 2001
• Gerhardt S. Why love matters. Routledge, 2004.
• Hirst M. Loving and living with traumatised children. Reflections by adoptive parents. BAAF 2006
• Layard R. Happiness. Allen Lane 2006.
• The adopter’s handbook. BAAF 2006
• Stoppard M. Complete baby and childcare. Dorland Kindersley 2006
• Verrier N. The primal wound. Gateway 1999.

The one that our social workers were keen on was The Primal Wound by Nancy Verrier. This helped introduce us to social work thinking on adoption and to theories on the damaging effects of childhood trauma, abandonment and loss. But it is a bit of a slog, and any reader should bear in mind that it’s based almost exclusively on research with adopted adults who were relinquished as babies. Here in the UK at least, that’s an increasingly rare phenomenon, and there was always a question in my mind as to how up-to-date the book is.

So which ones did we really like? Well, Sue Gerhardt’s Why Love Matters, which does a fantastic job of explaining early child development, and the one with a long title about talking by Faber and Mazlish. This one’s brilliant at encouraging a healthy relationship with your kids.

Nicky Campbell, who’s a TV presenter in the UK, was adopted and his book is an interesting insight into how it feels to have both birth and adoptive parents [as well as a large extended family]. He’s particularly eloquent on the subject of identity and how adoption affects the jigsaw of your personality.

Richard Layard’s Happiness is nothing less than a prescription for a healthier society and a better environment for us to bring our kids up in. That to me is worth at least a look – which you can do from here.

The other author I should mention is Gina Ford. We found that S- really benefited from routine and stability, especially in the early days and some of Ford’s ideas were helpful. The single most useful advice we had on daytime sleep came from The Contented Baby, and this was to manage things in terms not so much of how long your children stay down but how long they are awake before their naps. That to me was a revelation.

Oh, just one more – ok, two. Murkoff, Eisenberg and Hathaway’s What to expect books are useful aide memoires, and surprisingly amusing, too. But we wouldn’t be without Penelope Leach. Baby and Child [Penguin 1989] might be a bit old now, but to me Leach is the guru. I hang on her every word.