@Femme_Fatale018’s Letter

Welcome to the second project on obafuntaydotcom, The Letter to my unborn child project. If you missed the preview, you can view it here, just so you have an idea what we are up to, as much as the project title, speaks for itself.

Ever thought of writing a letter? Better still, a letter to your unborn child?

What would you name him/her? Why not give your unborn child a name now and write him/her a letter? Yes! Right now! Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

What do you think?

Today, we’d be reading Ohita’s letter.

Hang in there.

Dorothy's Letter

Ohita’s Letter

KIT or STRIP, I wondered to myself as I walked into the white-walled gleaming pharmacy. I had no idea which was more reliable; I had never done this before or being in such confusion. I knew I wasn’t well, nothing seemed normal; I would wake up in the mornings feeling woozy, get back from work and sleep the entire time, same sleep I struggled with during working hours.

I had never had a ‘proper’ intercourse or at least so I thought, no one would believe “Virgin Mary” was long gone. My periods were still right on time and with the usual excruciating pains from beyond BUT I still felt something wasn’t right. I walked out of the pharmacy again and paced for at least another 30 minutes right in front of the doors until I thought to call your aunt Esther. She on the other hand was as clueless as I was, but then she was the one person I could try trusting a 5.83 on a scale of 10.

Speaking to her on the phone, I back into the pharmacy and headed straight to the counter, I ask for which is more preferable for my friend over the phone and he advised a kit.

For the first time in weeks, I was so eager to get home and see my bathroom. On getting home I thought of the thousands ‘what ifs’, and for a pessimist I am a pretty good optimist. Straight to my room, doors locked behind me, read the instructions on the kit… I was actually going through with this “Dr Gregg’s Pregnancy test kit” I tested and then…

I called my mister up and told him how my day went and how I had a rather fulfilled day. He knowing me well asked whether or not anything spectacular had happened for this my sudden gush. I sent him a photo of the test kit and screamed that I was fine, I had tested negative. He was pretty composed about it and even tried unsuccessfully to make a joke or two.

Little did he know…
How much I had contemplated taking out a child if I ever got pregnant before marriage, after all, friends had gotten it over and done with, I mean.
What’s the worst that could happen?

– A baby’s demise, actually.

Days went,
Months of the usual menstrual downhills… I was perfect now or again, so I thought.

Until Saturday the 13th of May, 2011, approximately five months after my kit/strip dilemma something rather startling occurred.  The mister and I had always wanted to go mountain climbing but for some reasons largely due to our location, it took forever till we chose that day.

  • A camera
  • Two bagpacks
  • Three bottles of water
  • 6 perfect ‘neka cupcakes
  • Earplugs.

All checked and ready to go. On getting there, all set to overcome this mountain, ahead of us. I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdomen region but guessed it was my tummy being itself, it couldn’t be more than a rumble, or so I thought. Soon after, the pain became unbearable that before the mister could help figure what was wrong everything was in twos and then BLANK!

Lots of white lights, Doctors, Nurses, stethoscopes, whites and stainless steels…

“Ohi, Ohi, you are going to be fine the doctor says you were five monn..”

My Darling One, My very Own, The One I live for,
I was asked to get on a project, writing to my unborn kiddo. So here goes nothing.
First off, I’d like to give you some safety tips for Life’s journey. These are to serve as guidelines not necessarily compulsions, but then call them “MOMMY S BLUEPRINTS TO LIFE”.

God -Nothing is ever too little or too much or too inappropriate to speak to God about. Nothing at all! I know this. Whenever it seems like no one will understand you or you are in a state of confusion beyond even your comprehension, a word of prayer can do a lot. Often times, the effect might not be instant but eventually peace comes.

Family -Family is all you have. When I say family I mean your nuclear family: Dad, Mom, Siblings. That’s self explanatory. Your siblings should be the most important persons to you. Arguments and squabbles will definitely arise, my love. It’s only human nature. In the end, always sort out things. As your great-grandfather would advice”Never go to bed upset”

Friends – “Trust no one. God is your best bet” but then, “No man is an Island”
Be careful of the company you keep. It doesn’t necessarily have to define you. If you stick to your guns and know what you want from whatever friendship or interactions.

Education/School – I m a strong believer of going to school, studying, good grades and all of that, but then I can only help you make the right decisions. Keyword – “HELP”. Whatever you decide to study or become. I m behind you all the way and would love you still come what may. Yes, even if somehow, its football you wish, we can work it out. Probably take summer football classes or holiday academy but that doesn’t stop getting a degree.

Life as a whole is one you will own, control yours. “Life is what happens while we are busy making other plans”. Do what’s right always, be diligent, be kind, always polite amongst others be tolerant. – Make each day your master piece, put your best foot forward at all times.

Eventually, you will get curious about love, relationships and sex. Don’t worry child, we would discuss these in person.


Well, because the story highlighted before this letter was at first a scare but nah, that wasn’t how you were conceived.
I was five months gone, diagnosed with appendicitis and not taking safety precautions, it wasn’t healthy for me. I’ve got that all sorted now.

I love you forever and always, my dear Aisabolopia, Ohiolomokelede, Ian, Chiefulumekene, Titemini.

P.S – I m sorry you have a lot of names; I have a thing for them.


You can send in your own written letters to obafuntay@gmail.com

I’d like to take a moment here, to appreciate everyone who has taken the trouble of opening post links, reading letters, sharing, writing your own letters and keeping this project going. You guys are awesome!

{The option to send in letters, closes tomorrow the 14th at noon. Letters received after this date, would not be published. Thank you} 

N.B. The project goes on tomorrow, with @Sirkastiq‘s letter.

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

@KoyaTheHermit’s Letter

Welcome to the second project on obafuntaydotcom, The Letter to my unborn child project. If you missed the preview, you can view it here, just so you have an idea what we are up to, as much as the project title, speaks for itself.

Ever thought of writing a letter? Better still, a letter to your unborn child?

What would you name him/her? Why not give your unborn child a name now and write him/her a letter? Yes! Right now! Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

What do you think?

Today, we’d be reading Temi’s letter.

Hang in there.


Dear Daughter,

At the time you’re reading this letter, two things are certain. I am dead, and you are thirteen years young. If nothing else, I’d like you to know two things. I love you and, I’m so, very sorry.

Sorry that I can’t be there to hold you when you cry, or pick you up when you are stumbling, guide you against my bad choices. Sorry that I would not be able to share your comfort food and watch a sappy romance movie as you sob into my bosom after your first breakup. Sorry that I would never be able to be content just to be filled with love at a look, a touch, a smile from you. Sorry that I would never be able to tuck you in at night, or read you a bedtime story, watching your eyelids flutter close as your dreams run in meanders over your face. Sorry that I won’t be able to hear you sleep-talk, or hold you through the tumultuous nights filled with boogeymen and monsters.

Sorry that I would never be able to attend your PTA meetings, or watch you learn to play your first musical instrument, or attend your first ballet recital. Sorry that I would never get to hold your hand as we cross the street until you tell me you can do it on your own. Sorry that I would never be able to fall in love with you in different ways all over again day after day. Sorry that I couldn’t watch you smile and laugh. Sorry that I couldn’t watch you learn to talk and walk, and sneak from our house to your first boyfriend’s arms. Sorry that I couldn’t be in on your itty bitty secrets, and share your big dreams, using your ceiling as a billboard. Sorry that I couldn’t watch you grow into the beautiful young woman I’m certain you have become. Sorry that Death’s grip was stronger than my will. Sorry that I could never whisper ‘I love you’ and nibble on your ears as we had a good ole’ laugh. Sorry that sorry is but a word, quickly uttered and in itself grossly inadequate.

It hurts more than anything else that I can’t be, but sorry.

Tiwa. Dear Tiwa. Tiwaloreoluwa. God’s gift is ours. You are God’s gift to me.

That grey day, when the doctor told me of the placenta previa that riddled my innards and asked me to choose between life and you, I knew. I knew you were my choice, without thinking. You rescued my mind and my heart when you came into my body, my baby. When I discovered that day that I could carry you for months, I resolved that my last months, no matter how difficult, would be spent loving you, preparing for you, sacrificing for you. I’d rather bring you into the world, than remove you from my womb, I told your father, as his eyes glistened with tears. I prayed in the corner of my room that night, and many others after it, and I never felt more convinced of anything else in my entire life. You are the last note to the symphony that is my life.

You, my darling, are the baton that I carried in the last lap in my life’s relay and while I dread this inevitable day of The Reaper’s death call, I am grateful to God, in His infinite mercies, for deeming me worthy as a vessel to bear you into this un-beseeming world on that same day. I am comforted with the idea of carrying you for the next eight months, and holding you in my arms, looking at your adorable, twinkly little eyes, as my life’s journey ends. I hope your father teaches you to be you, as he showed me who I am.

I hope he lets you realize who you are. I hope you love the things that I do. I hope you love to live, laugh and sing and dance. Talk and chortle all at once. Books and meaningful music. Guzzling up the words and lyrics as your soul becomes over-fed. Ice cream, coffee and stuffed animals. Soothing all hurt, and sealing gaping holes. I hope that you live a life as God wants you to. I hope and pray to God that you find Him, and seek Him forever more. Seek honesty, love, joy and integrity; for in these you find truth and wholesomeness. I hope you remember always that no matter what, you’re a beautiful person. You are light, and light cannot be hidden. I hope you remember that your power can supersede any and every block placed in your path to fulfillment. I hope you don’t make my mistakes.

Respect your father. He’s inexplicably strong, and his love for you can be seconded to none. Love him, and take care of him. Complement his shortcomings, and don’t let him drown in misery, as he tends to. And if he marries again, as I have asked him to; respect his wife and take care of her. These would be your parents, your anchors.

Family is key. Honor them, keep them close, and don’t ever let anyone (even you) take advantage of them. They are your prized jewels, your world. Love them, and never let go. They will always love you, no matter what you do, or what happens in this whirlpool called life. I pray my friends and siblings become your family, and that they teach you the virtues I’d have loved to instill in you.

You see, baby girl, life can be like a song. Whereby things start off slowly and gently, in low notes, and then there’s a bridge of hollow happenings, and suddenly, there is an increase in tempo; a crescendo of events for good, and an explosion into beautiful melodies until they fade off into nothingness.

Your life, just like mine or anybody else’s is not going to be filled with only joy and rainbows. There would be harsh storms, my darling, and I pray to God that you learn the source of your strength early, and the ability to draw from it. So be strong. No one but yourself can make you unable to do something. When Life throws you hardened balls of hurt and hurls bitter bile of unkindness at you, stare her with all indignation flashing in your eyes, and rise beyond it, like a phoenix from darkened ashes. Strive for perfection. Never settle for mediocrity. You, my love, are the spawn of greatness. The blood that runs in your veins are not of mere men. Read far and wide. Broaden your horizon, and dream. Don’t ever stop dreaming.

Love wholeheartedly. Give all and expect nothing in return. Remember to love God first, for He keeps you in health and peace, and love others, for they are human and represent God here on earth, albeit their insufficient cage of flesh. Respect everyone around you, and learn to sacrifice; be it your time, words, or money for the betterment of another’s’ day or life. Employ courtesy and class, for without them, one cannot be called a woman. When heartbreak befalls you my sweetheart, break and build. Leave no cracks un-smoothed. Be it a boy or death, life would not always be fair. Find closure in your closet. Don’t let disappointments deter you from actualizing your dreams. Pain is addictive. Do not drown yourself in your own tears.

Build long-lasting, and symbiotic friendships and relationships. Learn from these people. Grow with them by your side. Never forget that people will fail you, be hypocritical, and try to hurt you; but don’t fail anybody. Stand by your word. Take them along in your journey. Grow into your own. Don’t let anybody push you down. I embodied strength, bordering on stubbornness. My obstinate nature in you must be put into good use. Do not let anyone – be it man, woman, friend or even husband dictate to you what is best for you. They may correct, contribute, or support, but never ever dictate to you.

Muliebrity entails brains, brawn and beauty. I pray you find that you find that these do not relate solely to the physical sense. They are innate in you, you just need to reach into it.
Make the verses of Proverbs 31 of the Bible your mantras, baby. They constitute a manual for womanhood.

Look within, find peace.
Be aware of the beauty you radiate. Bubble with mirth.
Never forget, everything I do, I do it for you.
You my love, are my light and life.

I love you, with every fiber of my being and every certainty of my existence.

Your mother.

• • •


You can send in your own written letters to obafuntay@gmail.com

N.B. The project goes on Monday, with @Delia_Maraj‘s letter.

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)

His Story, XIX

Thanks for waiting. In case you missed the preview, find it here, so you know what to expect. If you are not sure what Beneath the Smile is about, please check the preview out.

The project aims at looking beyond the smiles of the next person, to see what’s really beneath, what’s really going on? How people really need help and won’t bother saying anything about it but would rather cover it up with a façade of strength, with a smile.
It’s time to look beneath the smile and lend a helping hand. People are going through real things, these are their stories.

We hope that you’d be kind enough to leave a comment. Your feedback is important to us.

Today’s story was sent in by one of our readers who has asked to stay Anonymous.

This is his story.

Please Read.

The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.

behind the smile

Beneath my smile?

I have so many stories to tell, but I’ll just tell you what I can. I was born with a ‘diamond spoon’ (you know what I mean) My naming ceremony covered 2 streets of Yaba where I lived, my dad was the first owner of a car in that district also. My sister and I had our personal cars and bodyguards for school, as a primary school kid i took 200 Naira  to school everyday (You know what that could buy at that time?) All I’m saying here is that my family was wealthy that it had a negative effect on us. This wealth lasted from my birth till let’s say year 2004…between that time my dad was a drunk, was never there for the family, under the influence of alcohol he beat my mum time after time. I started to hate him, but then he’ll bribe me with money.

When I reached the ‘age of accountability’ I started to pray to God to take away this wealth from my family…but instead my dad’s salary went up to 1.5mil per month as at year 2000. Finally God answered my prayers when I was in secondary school, we were broke and I even had to leave boarding school to be a day student for 1 year to save some money for my already born younger ones. This whole decline in wealth brought my family together and since then we’ve been the best family alive. My dad is even my best pal and he and my mum still show themselves love..Things became all good and we were reaching that status again.

I entered CU in 2008 and my dad still had his job then but his 1.5mil salary was cut down by 1.35million….I felt guilty for this but our pastor said it was “jazz” in his office and from the village (they’ve taken a lot of blame for many people’s demise lol) I still carried that burden in my heart, but thank God for my mom’s business, in 2009 my dad resigned but i was still comfortable in school till the enemies struck BIG TIME…the family I trusted most (my maternal aunt’s) was out to deal with my mom because of a dispute among all the siblings (aunts and uncles). She accused my mum of something very heavy and in one week my mum fell sick and ‘died’…she was confirmed dead by the doctors. I cried my heart, eyes, lungs, everything I cried them out but we kept on praying and with the help of the anointing oil she was back after 2 days… the hate for my aunt turned me into a beast! I was ready to kill her, but my mum calmed me down.

Then in my 300level, something else came up, my dad and I were robbed @ gunpoint, of me and my siblings school fees..close to a million cash! That year was not our year financially and that killed me inside. My mum cried and dad’s silence was more pain than tears and then my aunt came up again and blamed the misfortune on my mum. I woke up the next morning and my dad was totally down with my mum unconscious in his hands…I didn’t even cry I just took a knife and the car keys and I was heading straight to my aunt’s house but my dad managed to get me back and we all prayed and the anointing oil again came to our rescue and she’s alive and well 😀

This is a ‘beneath the smile’ project but In school, people always bashed me for having a straight face all the time (a straight face was as good as a smile for me in my condition), some said I was proud because I didn’t talk to people (what possibly can I be proud of), only a few knew I was shy. I had/have serious hatred in me and had a few friends. It is/was really hard to love but I mean it, when i say it…take note 😉

I still have hatred for that family buried in me somewhere. I don’t show it though and..guilt (that i reduced my family status). I just need prayers to curb that hatred and also for peace between the 2 families.

In all this, I want u guys to learn a few things
*money doesn’t necessarily bring joy
*be careful what you ask God for
*pray for your parents always…they actually go through a lot.

Thanks for reading and God bless 🙂

• • •

Don’t just read, say a prayer.


N.B. The project goes on with Tomorrow’s ’Her Story, 28’ by an Anonymous Writer

You can still send in your own true stories to obafuntay@gmail.com

You can subscribe to the blog (at the right column to follow the project, if you are viewing with your mobile, just scroll to the end of this page to subscribe)