Climate Justice Begins in the Womb

Extreme heat is no longer just an environmental concern — it is a public health crisis with devastating consequences for pregnant women, especially in low-resource communities.

A new report from Climate Central lays bare a growing tragedy: the Philippines ranks among Asia’s worst countries for climate-driven pregnancy heat exposure, recording an average of 36 high-risk heat days each year between 2020 and 2024. Of these, 30 were directly attributed to human-caused climate change.

Zamboanga City emerged as one of Asia’s most affected urban areas, experiencing an average of 42 such heat-risk days annually. Alarmingly, 98 percent of these were linked to climate change. For expectant mothers, even one day of extreme heat can elevate the risk of preterm birth, hypertension, gestational diabetes, and stillbirth — complications that carry both human and economic costs.

This is now a health issue and a moral dilemma. It is climate injustice in its most intimate form. Women who have contributed the least to global emissions are now bearing the heaviest burden of a crisis they did not create. In the face of worsening heat, pregnancy is becoming more perilous — and the womb, once a place of safety, is being turned into a battleground by climate change.

Yet amid this sobering picture, there is still hope — and a path forward that affirms both agency and dignity.

We do not need to wait for long-term global carbon reductions to begin protecting mothers now. There are actionable, community-based interventions that can make a difference today. The Department of Health (DOH), together with local government units, can establish prenatal cooling centers — simple, low-cost spaces where pregnant women can seek relief during peak heat. These centers don’t require expensive infrastructure: shaded waiting areas, solar-powered fans, hydration stations, and basic first aid can go a long way in preventing heat-related complications.

Technology can also be leveraged to save lives. A nationwide “heat alert” system, using SMS or mobile apps, can notify pregnant women when temperatures reach dangerous levels. These alerts could provide health tips, hydration reminders, or tell them when to delay travel to clinics.

But adaptation should not stop there. Climate change must be integrated into our health education system. Future midwives, nurses, and doctors should be trained to recognize heat-related pregnancy risks and manage them in both clinical and home settings. Our rural health workers — often the only accessible care providers in remote barangays — are the frontliners of this slow-onset disaster. Their experience and adaptive intelligence must be recognized, supported, and included in national disaster risk reduction strategies.

Moreover, maternal health must be prioritized in climate financing. Wealthy nations and global climate institutions owe a debt not only for lost crops and sunken coastlines, but also for premature deliveries and the quiet grief of stillbirths caused by fossil-fueled heat. Climate justice must include reproductive justice — and that means channeling international funds to support maternal health infrastructure, equipment, and emergency response systems in countries like the Philippines.

Filipino mothers should not have to choose between carrying life and surviving heat. Their resilience must not be mistaken for acceptance of suffering. They are not just passive victims of a broken climate, but agents of hope, survival, and change. The voices of mothers navigating both poverty and climate extremes must be heard — not as footnotes in scientific reports, but as central figures in the global climate story.

To protect mothers is to protect the future. Climate action that begins in the womb is not just compassionate — it is essential. If we cannot shield our mothers and babies from the heat, then what future are we building? It’s time for climate policy to put maternal health at its core.