We bring to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.

From: Maria, a woman grieving the loss of her three daughters

To: Sapphire, Harmony and Melody, her sweet girls

Trigger Warning: This story deals with pregnancy loss and self-harm

My loves,

Sharing our story is so difficult. It hurts me physically, and I’m so weak I can’t even talk. But I have to keep going.

A year after losing Sapphire, I moved on from your father. I was still grieving but found myself wanting someone around. So  I started dating again. It didn’t feel wrong because I knew I needed to move on from the past year. But the relationship was over barely six months in. He felt uncomfortable with me working with your dad. I didn’t see the issue since we’d both moved on from our marriage. 

I was heartbroken all over again and mad that he didn’t trust me. And somehow, your dad was conveniently there. We had sex and pretty much got back together. 

We were together for seven months before I found out I was 18 weeks pregnant with you both, Harmony and Melody. I was off my birth control when your dad and I had sex, so it wasn’t a surprise. I felt both scared and excited we had another chance. But then, I lost you both.

All I remember was ending up with your lifeless bodies in my arms after nine months of imagining your faces. Only the memories of carrying you in my belly kept me alive on my worst days after that. 

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Harmony Oluwatunmininu, you! You reminded me of myself and all the stories my mum used to tell me about what I did to her while she was pregnant. Every time I felt movement, I knew it was you. You were the most active and must’ve tormented Melody. I remember seeing you slap your sister during an ultrasound. I wish I caught it on video because it’ll sound unbelievable to anyone else. But I saw you. 

I planned to tell that story every single day to every single person, especially at your wedding, and be that embarrassing mother. I understand that you couldn’t live without your sister and needed to be with her. I hope you’re having fun scattering all the toys in baby heaven and frustrating all the angel nannies.

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Melody, my sweet girl. I named you Oluwatamilore after my best friend because our strength and perseverance reminded me of her. I’m sure she would’ve loved to meet you. You were the calmest twin, but I know you fought so hard to stay alive. I wish I could’ve helped you fight more. I hope you can see Harmony up there. Please give her a big hug and kiss for me. 

Losing you both was hard. I had people blaming me for going back to your father. But I’d do it again if it means I could’ve been a mum today. I wish I could hold you both just one more time. I wish I could see your faces again and hear you cry. I still visit your graves, and I promise to do this as often as possible so you never feel alone.

Mummy loves you with every fibre of her being. Until we meet again, my princesses, remember that.

Forever in my heart,


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