I am a Black woman. I am a midwife, a human-optimization researcher, and a podcaster. I come from a line of women who held my people in their hands who fed us, wrapped us, sang us back into strength. Today I want to speak to you about a practice that still hums in my bones: Omugwo (Igbo), Omiuvwon (Urhobo) the sacred art of mothering the mother.

Omugwo is not a quaint custom. It is a public health intervention disguised as love. It is a way of organizing care so that after birth a woman is allowed to be fragile, to be fed, to sleep, to heal and to be taught to breastfeed without shame or hurry. Traditionally, an elder woman your mother, mother-in-law, or a trusted aunt moves in to tend to you for about 30 days for a baby girl and 40 days for a baby boy. During this time the community’s labour becomes the mother’s recovery. The foods she eats, the herbal soups, the hot baths, the massages these are all medicines wrapped in ritual. They matter. They change outcomes.

As a practitioner and as a Black woman who has seen too many mothers pushed into “bouncing back” before their bodies and spirits are ready, I want us to reclaim what our grandmothers knew: that postpartum care is essential care. When women are given structured, culturally rooted support in the weeks after birth, we see better breastfeeding rates, calmer mothers, and reduced isolation. This is not just folklore research into traditional Omugwo practices and into postpartum caregiving shows how social support and elder involvement shape maternal wellbeing.

If you want modern evidence that backing mothers works, look at the growing literature on doulas and continuous postpartum support. Systematic reviews and analyses show that doula care emotional labour, breastfeeding coaching, continuity of presence improves maternal outcomes, and it is particularly effective for socio-economically vulnerable and marginalized mothers. In other words: the benefits of Omugwo align with what modern maternal-health science repeatedly finds. The more we wrap care around the mother, the better the results for mother and child.

We also must be blunt about the cost of losing it. The pandemic peeled back the illusion that modern systems protect mothers: postpartum depression rates rose, isolation increased, and for Black women the danger has always been higher. Black mothers face disproportionate maternal morbidity and mortality in many countries, and social support like culturally competent postpartum care and community doulas can be part of closing that gap. Bringing Omugwo into contemporary policy and practice isn’t just sentimental; it’s equitable health policy.

So what could a contemporary Omugwo look like?

• A recognized 30–40-day postpartum period where a mother has first claim to rest supported by family, trained community doulas, or paid caregivers.
• A postpartum diet program (community kitchens, meal delivery) that honors traditional nourishing foods shown to support lactation and recovery.
• Training for health workers on culturally respectful postpartum rituals, and funding for community doula programs so that elders’ wisdom and modern safety standards meet.
• Public-health messaging that returns postpartum care to the centre of maternal health (not an afterthought).

This is not nostalgia. This is reclamation the conscious blending of ancestral wisdom with modern evidence. The World Health Organization has long recommended structured postnatal contacts and home visits in the newborn’s first weeks; what Omugwo adds is a model of sustained, community-led care that honors the mother’s body and relationships while supporting the newborn’s health. Imagine combining WHO-level guidance with village-level practice. Imagine fewer mothers falling into postpartum despair because someone is there to carry water, make soup, hold hands at 2 a.m., and coax a baby to latch.

To my sisters: let us speak up for the right to be cared for. To health planners and policymakers: invest in mother-centred programs, fund community doulas, and create pathways that let traditional caregivers partner with clinics. To partners: learn how to make soup and protect your woman’s sleep. To the next generation: teach that motherhood is a community responsibility, not a private burden.

We must bring back Omugwonot as a museum piece, but as a living policy, a public health priority, and a moral obligation. Let the mother be mothered. When she is, the whole world is stronger.

With love and insistence,
Lovetti