In the early hours of May 15, 2005, I came into this world, innocent and unaware of the storm brewing around my arrival. Instead of the usual sounds of joy and excitement that greet newborns, my first cries were met with tears. Tears that flowed freely from the eyes of my family, my mother's parents, and every other person present in the room.

I was born a girl, and in the eyes of many, that fact alone was cause for sorrow. It didn't matter that I was healthy and full of promise. In that moment, the world seemed to have already decided my fate – that my gender was a burden, a disappointment.

I was the sixth daughter in my family, a fact that only compounded the sadness in the room. Even my maternal grandparents, who should have been overjoyed at the birth of their grandchild, couldn't hide their disappointment. It was as if my very existence was a mark of failure.

But amidst the sea of tears and regret, there was one person who held onto hope – my father. Despite the weight of societal expectations, he welcomed me into the world with open arms and a heart full of love. His joy was a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder that not everyone saw my birth as a tragedy.

As I grew older, the tears subsided, replaced by admiration, love, and respect from my family. They came to realize that my worth wasn't determined by my gender or birth order, but by the person I was becoming. My mother often reflects on those early days, recalling how my father's happiness was the only genuine emotion amidst the sea of tears.

It's a sad truth that in our society, the birth of a daughter is often met with disappointment and sorrow. But my story is a testament to the power of love and resilience. Despite the tears that greeted my arrival, I've grown to be cherished and valued, proving that every life, regardless of gender or birth order, is worthy of celebration and love.