After giving birth, I stayed with my parents for support—a normal part of Filipino family culture. But when my in-laws visited, my MIL dismissed my recovery: “You can’t just sit here doing nothing.” I was only two weeks postpartum, still bleeding and exhausted. Her words stung, but I stayed quiet.

The next morning, she barged in, pulled back the curtains, and told me to start cooking or cleaning. I finally spoke up: “I’m still healing. Raising a newborn is not nothing.” She scoffed, comparing me to her own struggles. Later at dinner, she mocked my weight in front of everyone. I locked myself in my room and cried.

Martin, my husband, eventually defended me: “I became a husband and father. That’s supposed to change me.” Soon after, we decided to move out.

Life was tough in our tiny apartment, but Martin stepped up—cooking, changing diapers, helping me rest. Then he lost his job. To cope, I started posting little videos of our baby, Liam, on TikTok. One went viral. Within months, I had hundreds of thousands of followers, brand deals, and enough income to support us.

We upgraded our home, helped my parents, and slowly built stability. At Liam’s first birthday, my MIL surprised me with an apology after watching my videos: “You’re a good mother. Better than I ever was.” From then on, she came not to criticize, but to help.

My platform kept growing, but I stayed true—sharing the messy, real side of motherhood. I even started a support group for moms. One young mom from Cebu told me she almost gave her baby up but changed her mind after our talks. That moment showed me the power of simply being real.

Today, Liam is four, Martin has a stable job, and I’m still posting—stretch marks, sleepless nights, tears, and laughter. My message remains the same:

Motherhood isn’t weakness. It’s showing up every day, even when you’re exhausted, and loving beyond yourself.

So if you’re a mom reading this: You’re not failing. You’re human. You’re amazing. And most importantly—
You are not alone.