Postpartum Traditions in the Philippines: Ancient Wisdom for Modern Mothers

In the Philippines, postpartum recovery was once treated with deep care and a whole lot of warmth, literally and figuratively. Long before there were Google searches or mommy blogs, there was pagpapahilom—a time of intentional rest and recovery for the new mother, guided by generations of wisdom.

After giving birth, a mother wasn’t expected to do it all. In fact, she was encouraged to do very little to avoid binat. Her only job was to rest, heal, and care for her newborn. Her mother, aunties, sisters, and extended family often stepped in to take over the household. She didn’t cook. She didn’t clean. She wasn’t left alone to figure things out. She was held by practices designed to support her recovery on every level.

Warmth played a huge role in postpartum care. Mothers were wrapped in blankets, served hot soups like arroz caldo or lugaw, and given tinola with lots of malunggay leaves for breast milk production. Before bathing, oil was gently massaged into the skin to “trap the warmth” and protect the body from cold. Bathing wasn’t rushed either. Many waited a week or more, and only with warm water.

For mothers who delivered vaginally, guava leaves were boiled and used for steam baths or gentle washing to promote healing and prevent infection. It was nature’s way of tending to wounds without the need for fancy ointments or sterile packs. Just fresh leaves and intentional care.

Then there’s hilot—a traditional massage done by a skilled manghihilot to help realign the body, reposition the uterus, and ease the aches from labor and birth. Some mothers also practiced abdominal binding with cloth to support the belly and lower back.

Even the placenta had a role in postpartum tradition. In many families, burying the inunan was a symbolic act, marking the end of the mother’s physical pain from labor. It was a way to honor what her body had done.

Not all postpartum beliefs were rooted in science, but many carried emotional and energetic weight. For example, some mothers were told not to breastfeed if they were sad, angry, or overly tired. It was based on the belief that negative emotions could be transferred to the baby through breast milk. And while we now know that colostrum (or the baby’s first milk) is incredibly nutritious and protective, some families once believed it was dirty or unsafe, discarding it in favor of waiting for “real” milk to come in.

These practices weren’t perfect, but they came from a place of care. They acknowledged something we’ve lost in modern life: that birth changes everything, and recovery is not a solo journey. In these traditions, mothers were seen, supported, and celebrated.

Today, we can honor that legacy. Not by copying every practice but by embracing the intention behind them. Slowing down. Asking for help. Eating warm meals. Letting others care for us. Trusting that we deserve time to heal.

Because we do.