My mother-in-law pushed me because I didn’t have a son — but one day, my daughter found something that changed everything.

My name is  María Dela Cruz . I got married at 23.
Over the years, I gave birth to three daughters:  Anna ,  Liza,  and  Mika .
We weren’t rich, but we lived a simple and happy life.
I believed that love was enough to keep a family together.
But I was wrong.

One morning, while we were having breakfast, my mother-in-law,  Doña Rosario  —a wealthy old woman of Spanish descent—said words I will never forget:

“If you can only have daughters, Maria, leave my house. I don’t need any more ‘chicks’. I want a grandson, an heir to our family name.”

My husband,  Eduardo , just lowered his head.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even defend me.

I didn’t cry.
I didn’t scream.
The next morning, before sunrise, I took my three daughters by the hand and we left the Dela Cruz family’s large house in Quezon City.
In one hand, an old bag. In the other, my daughters’ small hands trembling with the early morning cold.

We found a small room to rent in  Tondo  —cramped, smelling of wood and sweat, but it was the first place we called  home .
I told myself:  Here, even though we’re poor, no one will make us feel worthless.

That night, while I was packing clothes into an old suitcase, Mika , my youngest daughter, who was five years old, approached me  .
In her hands she held a small wooden box.

“Mom, I took it from Grandma Rosario’s room. She always hid it. I was just curious…”

I opened the box—and felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Inside were  ultrasound papers .
On each page, it was clearly written:

“Sex: Male.”

Time stood still.
It was the ultrasound of my  first pregnancy  — the baby that Doña Rosario said “looks like a girl” and that’s why she forced me to take herbs to “cleanse the womb”, because “she will surely be another unlucky female.”

A few days later, I bled uncontrollably and almost died.
The doctor said I had lost the baby.
Today I understood—  it was a boy.
And Doña Rosario hid the evidence of her own crime in a box.

My three daughters hugged me.
I cried silently. Not only from the pain, but from understanding how the world punishes a woman simply for not giving birth to a son.

The next day, I started working as a  freelance accountant .
From one client, I went to two, then to five—until I opened a small office in Manila.
Our business grew, and little by little, we got back on our feet.

Three years later,  I bought a house  —right next door to the Dela Cruz mansion.
The house they used to call “narrow and old” I painted white and blue, and hung a sign at the entrance:

“Home of the Three Little Birds.”

Every morning, when Doña Rosario opens her window, that’s the first thing she sees.

One morning, I sent a white envelope to his mansion.
Inside, three things:

A copy of the old ultrasound — proof that I once carried his grandson in my womb.

A handwritten letter:

“Mama Rosario kicked me out of her house saying I couldn’t give her a grandson.
But the truth is,  you yourself  were the reason why the only grandson she ever had was never born.”

A photo:
Me, with my three daughters — Anna, recently accepted into a science school; Liza, winner of the district Mathematics Olympiad; and Mika, holding a trophy:  ‘Champion – Kindergarten Storytelling Contest’.

There was no hatred in the letter.
No insults.
Only truth — and a silence more painful than any scream.

Weeks later, the neighbors saw Doña Rosario standing in front of my gate, looking at my house sign.
Silent. Sad.
Not saying a word.

And me?
Every night, while my daughters study at the table, I watch them.
Three beautiful, intelligent, and brave girls.
I smile.

“They say you need a son to bring pride to a family.
But here I have three daughters—and a mother who learned to fight.
That’s enough to make me proud before the world.”

My story is not one of revenge.
It’s one of  awakening  —of understanding that a woman’s worth  is not measured  by the sex of the children she brings into the world.

And every morning, when I open my bookstore called  “Home of the Three Little Birds” , I say to myself:

“I don’t need a son to feel complete.
Because in my three princesses I found my strength, my dignity, and my true freedom.”