Somewhere in the first months of motherhood, eating became a chore.
Not cooking, I had already let that go. Just eating. The act of putting food in my body felt like one more thing on a list that never ended.
I would reheat something quickly. Eat standing up. Finish before I even tasted it.
Not because I didn’t love food. But because food had become purely functional. Fuel. Something I needed so my body could produce milk and my baby could eat.
I was eating to feed my baby. Not to nourish myself.
And I didn’t even notice it was happening until one afternoon, I sat down. I actually sat down with a bowl of warm rice and my favorite ulam. Ate it slowly. Without my phone. Without rushing.
And felt, unexpectedly, like I was being taken care of.
That small ordinary moment was the beginning of Alaga sa Katawan for me.
“I was eating to feed my baby. Not to nourish myself.”
Eating is not a chore.
I know that sounds obvious. But when you are in the thick of early motherhood, depleted, sleep-deprived, you, thinking that you’re existing entirely for someone else, the obvious things disappear first.
Eating is not a task to complete.
It is a blessing. An act of love toward the body that is doing everything right now, for you and for your baby.
It is, in the truest sense, a luxury worth protecting.
And you are worthy of alaga. Not just your baby. Not just your family. You.
That realization was the beginning of everything. Not a program. Not a plan. Just the quiet decision to treat my own body with the same alaga I was so freely giving to everyone else.
Alaga means to tend, to care, to love something into wholeness, the way you would care for a small plant or a sleeping child.
Katawan means body.
Alaga sa Katawan is not a fitness philosophy. It is not about losing the baby weight or getting your body back. It is the practice of caring for your physical self the way you care for the people you love, consistently, gently, without conditions.
In early motherhood, it does not look impressive.
It looks like drinking water before you drink your morning coffee/cacao/tea.
Like stepping outside for ten minutes even when the to-do list says no.
Like eating something warm, sitting down, without your phone.
Like resting when the baby rests instead of catching up on everything else.
None of these will make a transformation reel. None of them will trend.
But they send one quiet message to your body that matters more than any program:
You are worthy of alaga.
Part of my morning Alaga sa Katawan ritual is taking Intra.
A daily herbal supplement that supports energy, immunity, and overall wellness. It was one of the first small things I added back when I had very little capacity for anything.
I am not saying it will do the same for you. I am saying it became part of how I showed up for my own body on the days when showing up felt hard, the same way that bowl of warm rice with my favorite ulam did.
Small. Consistent. A quiet act of love toward myself.
Alaga sa Katawan is the first root of Daily Ginhawa because everything else – your clarity, your patience, your capacity to be present – grows from how you treat the body you live in.
You cannot pour from a body you have been ignoring. You cannot pour from an empty cup.
And you cannot give alaga if you have never received it from yourself.
“You are worthy of alaga. Not just your baby. Not just your family. You.”
With love,
Kristen
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