- Zara Phillips, 60, was stolen at birth
- She was raised by her adopted parents Jean and Seymour
- When Zara was 22, she decided to track down her birth mother
Here she shares her story in her own words.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I felt sad.
I look nothing like Mum and Dad, my brow furrowed.
While my mum Jean had fair skin and light hair, my features were much darker.
I always knew my older brother and I were adopted from different families – but Jean and my adoptive dad Seymour struggled to talk about it, so I didn’t ask questions.
But not having the answers left me with an awful sense of rejection.
Why did my biological mum give me up? Was I ugly? Did she hate me? I’d wonder and weep.
‘The sadness and confusion festered inside me.’
When I walked down the street, I’d scan the faces of all the women, wondering if one of them could be her.
The sadness and confusion festered inside me and, aged 15, I turned to booze as an outlet to escape.
Finishing school and touring the world as a backing singer, I started dabbling with drugs.
But with help I got sober and, at 22, I decided to track down my birth mother.
Applying for my adoption records, two years on I discovered that her name was Pat and she lived in the UK, where I did too.
Social services agreed to pass on a letter from me.
In it, I told her a bit about myself, including my love for music and how I’d recently attended a Michael Jackson concert in London.
A couple of weeks later, I received a letter back.
I am so pleased to hear from you, Pat had written.
Incredibly, she and her two children Roberta, then 16, and Orlando, 13, had been at the same concert.
I have siblings? I gasped, my heart racing.
READ MORE: Forced adoption: ‘I was stolen at birth’
I couldn’t believe we’d been in the same vicinity without even knowing.
Pat explained she’d been part of the ‘forced adoption’ era where, between 1949 and 1976, unmarried mothers were considered unsuitable parents and made to give up their babies.
Though she’d been in a relationship with my birth father, Italian-born Vittorio, when she fell pregnant at 16, it had brought great shame to her family.
So she was shipped off to a mother and baby home to give birth in secret.
When Pat went into labour in November 1964, she was offered little sympathy from the nurses.
‘You’ve made your bed, you can lie in it,’ she was told, before being left to deliver me by herself, which led to her having a haemorrhage.
‘When she returned to her room, I was gone.’
Pat was taken away for treatment, but when she returned to her room, I was gone.
She never even got to hold me before I was cruelly stolen and placed in foster care, before being adopted.
Back at home she was forced to go on as if nothing happened, and she never saw Vittorio again.
I never stopped thinking about you, Pat confessed.
I had mixed feelings as it was such a complex situation, but my heart felt full just knowing she’d cared about me.
Within a few weeks, we finally met at her home.
I was amazed to see we had the same round face and full lips.
‘I can’t believe you’re my birth mum,’ I beamed.
Meeting my half-siblings Roberta and Orlando two weeks later, was just as surreal.
At first, I kept the news of my reunion secret from my adoptive parents, scared I’d hurt them.
Five years after meeting Pat, in 1993, I relocated to the US for a sea change.
READ MORE: Aussie mum’s heartache – 45 years to find my stolen baby
There, I fell in love with an American bloke, and we went on to welcome three beautiful kids, Zach in 1996, Kayla in 2000, and Arden in 2002.
When my adoptive mum, Jean, died in July 2008, aged 77, I was crushed.
Time passed, and in 2015, a spark was ignited in me to find my birth father. I only had his first name from Pat, so after taking a DNA test, I prayed for a match.
Amazingly, when I was 51, I got just that.
Incredibly, he lived only an hour away from me in New Jersey, US.
‘He was pleasantly surprised to learn of my existence.’
We were basically neighbours!
READ MORE: DNA shock: 59-year-old man discovers he has a secret family
Picking up the phone, Vittorio was so pleasantly surprised to learn of my existence.
By then my husband and I had divorced, but my kids, then 20, 16 and 14, were encouraging of my reunion with Vittorio.
Soon after, I drove to his house to meet in person for the first time, and we shared an emotional hug.
He’d had no idea I’d existed all this time.
As we chatted, I was shocked to learn I had seven other half siblings, and I’ve since had the chance to meet some of them in person too.
Sadly, in May 2018, I lost my adoptive dad, Seymour, who was aged 88.
Eight months later tragedy struck again when Vittorio died from a heart attack, aged 77.
I was beside myself with grief to have lost them both in less than a year.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ Pat told me over the phone.
She was devastated at Vittorio’s death too.
I had hoped they would meet again one day – but now that would never happen.
With Pat being my only surviving parent, our bond slowly grew stronger over the years.
Now, Pat and I are incredibly close.
When I can, I travel back to the UK to see her, and we love cooking and going shopping together.
‘I’ve come to terms with my trauma.’
And she has such a close relationship with my kids – her grandkids – Zach, now 29, Kayla, 25, and Arden, 23.
Over the years I’ve come to terms with my trauma.
I’ve published two memoirs – Somebody’s Daughter and Mother Me – with the first book now a documentary of the same name.
I want everyone to know that they aren’t alone.
