I was swapped at birth!

• After a lifetime of feeling like she didn’t fit in, adoptee Penny sought to find her biological family
• Her search was met with barrier after barrier as members of her biological family had passed on, or so she thought
• After DNA analysis revealed she’d been swapped at birth, Penny’s self discovery journey took her to Greece, where she met some of her flesh and blood
• Dr Penny Mackieson, 60, shares her story…..

Staring at my beautiful new bub, Patrick, I tried to see if he had any of my features.

“He looks like your mum,” I said to my hubby, Bruce. “His squarish face and darker skin tone…”

“Oh yes, I can see it now,” he said, smiling.

Finding familial features was an obsession of mine.

I was adopted and despite my parents giving me the world, I’d always felt like I didn’t fit in.

Read more: My adopted son used Google Maps to track down his missing family

Me with my adoptive mother, Lois Mackieson, in the front garden, 1963. (Image: Supplied)

While I had dark hair and brown eyes like my adoptive mum and dad, my personality was so different to theirs.

All I knew about my birth mum was that she was young when she’d given me up for adoption.

Grasping for stability, I decided to find out who my birth mother was.

An adoption support agency helped me access my records and in October 1997, when I was 34, I made contact with my birth mother, Gwen, who was in her early 50s.

I am absolutely thrilled to have confirmation that you are the person I am seeking… I wrote.

Thankfully, she was happy to hear from me. We continued to write and she sent me a photo of herself.

Me (junior bridesmaid) with my adoptive family at a wedding reception in Melbourne, 1973. (Image: Supplied)

“She looks nothing like me,” I said, showing Bruce.

By then, my father, Lionel, had passed away, but my mum, Lois, was upset when I told her I’d contacted Gwen.

“I’m going to lose you,” she said.

“You won’t,” I promised.

In April 1998, I met Gwen at her house.

It was wonderful but after a while, I discovered we weren’t alike in personality either.

She was quiet whereas I’m a chatterbox.

Perhaps I take after my birth dad, I figured.

Gwen told me I’d been conceived after a brief affair.

A few years later, Gwen bumped into my birth father and gave him my details.

In October 2002, he phoned me.

“I believe I’m your father,” he said awkwardly.

“I’d like to meet you,” I told him.

Tragically, he passed away before I got the chance.

Time passed, my mum Lois died aged 83, and it gnawed away at me that I’d never met any biological relatives whose face, mannerisms or personality mirrored my own.

Then in 2016, I took a DNA test to see if I could connect with my biological father’s side of the family.

Me visiting the Greek island of Paros, Greece. (Image: Supplied)

Reading the results, I frowned.

“Look at this,” I said, showing Bruce.

“That’s impossible,” he replied as he read.

“Both my parents have to be Greek,” I said.

The results said I was 70 per cent Greek and had zero of Gwen and my birth dad’s English, Irish or Welsh ethnicity. It didn’t make sense.

For answers, Gwen did a DNA test and weeks later, I nervously called her about the results.

“Do you have any Greek ethnicity?” I asked.

“None,” she said softly.

A pause ensued as we both realised what this meant. Gwen wasn’t my mother.

She had a daughter out there somewhere and I still had no idea who my birth parents were.

After knowing each other for 20 years, Gwen and I lost touch. We both needed to move on and find our truth.

I lodged an investigation with the Victorian Government’s Adoption Information Service and they identified a Greek woman they believed was my natural mother.

She’d given me up for adoption, then married in Australia, had three children and returned to Greece in the 1970s.

By now, she was in her 80s.

They contacted her and although she was glad I had a happy, healthy life, she didn’t want contact with me as she’d kept my birth a secret from her family.

Me at the Acropolis, Athens, Greece. (Image: Supplied)

But then my half-siblings were contacted by the Adoption Information Service about me and they welcomed the prospect of having another sister.

We ran DNA tests that confirmed it: they were my family. I really was swapped at birth!

In April 2023, I flew to Greece to visit them.

When I met my half-siblings, it felt like home.

Our resemblance was uncanny and conversation flowed easily.

“We’ve organised a lunch for you tomorrow, will you come?” my half-sister Sofia said, in perfect English.

“Okay,” I replied.

One was my aunt and the other, clearly, was my birth mother.

This is it, I thought.

We all burst into tears as we hugged each other tightly.

I’d waited for this moment my whole life.

“I asked Mum if she thought of you often,” Sofia said, acting as translator.

“What did she say?”I asked.

Bruce, Patrick and I at Corinth Canal, Greece. (Image: Supplied)

“That she’s thought of you every day since you were born,” she replied.

I bawled my eyes out to know she’d been thinking of me, too, but had been too scared to tell her family.

Sofia fetched some photos of Mum through the years and we looked so alike.

Returning home, I felt settled and anchored for the first time ever.

Now having discovered the truth after being swapped at birth, I know my real ancestral roots.

I’m studying Greek and will return to Greece with Bruce and Patrick soon.

I’d still like to find out more information about my biological father, too.

It’s been such a long path getting here, I even wrote a book about my experience called Greek, Actually.

Maternity hospitals were chaotic in the 1960s and being swapped at birth when I was a baby was most likely an error – perhaps the wrong name tag was fitted to my tiny wrist or the correct one fell off.

Now, I just want to make up for lost time with my Greek family.

There isn’t a hole in my heart anymore. It’s been filled with love.