Former tokophobia sufferer, mother of two fearless births, author of Betrayed By Your Biology and Fearless Birthing. Host of the Fear Free Childbirth podcast (2m+ downloads). The person who named Reproductive Anxiety Disorder.
A gentle note before we begin. This post is about grief and trauma after abortion. It is written with great care and no judgement, and it holds no position on anyone’s choices. If now is not the right moment for you, that is completely okay. It will be here when you are ready.
Women have trusted me with grief they had never spoken aloud to anyone. What strikes me, every time, is that so often it was not the decision itself that broke them. It was the silence afterwards. The pretending. Carrying something enormous with nowhere to put it down. That is the wound I most want to help lift.
Abortion grief is one of the least spoken about forms of loss there is. When abortion is discussed at all, the conversation is almost always about morality, politics and rights. Almost nobody talks about the grief. About the woman who wanted her baby and still could not continue the pregnancy. About the ache at three in the morning, the replaying, the silence she never chose.
This post is not about the decision. It is about the aftermath: the grief and trauma that can follow, why silence makes it so much heavier, and how it can heal. It is a form of reproductive trauma that deserves far more tenderness than it usually receives. If you want to understand how fear can drive the decision in the first place, I write about that separately in fear-driven abortion through the lens of RAD.
In this post:
When the grief is real and unspoken
There is a particular kind of grief that has almost no place to exist: the grief of a woman who wanted her baby but could not survive the pregnancy. Maybe fear made the decision for her. Maybe circumstances did. Either way, she is left with a loss that does not fit any of the scripts we are given.
This grief can be complicated. It can hold relief and sorrow at the same time. It can carry a specific ache of wondering what might have been different. And because there is often no ritual, no acknowledgement, sometimes no one who even knows, it has nowhere to go. The grief is real, and it is allowed, and it does not need to be justified or explained to anyone in order to count.
Why the silence is the wound
Many of the women I have worked with tell me the same thing: it was not the abortion that broke them, it was the pretending. To a partner. To themselves. To the world. After the decision, silence moves in, and at first it feels protective. Then it hardens into a shell, heavy and isolating, and very hard to put down.
Sometimes the silence is enormous. A woman may have told her partner it was a miscarriage, and now carries a secret that sits between them for years. Secrecy becomes a second loss, not only of the pregnancy, but of connection, of being fully known by the people she loves. When you cannot speak something, you cannot be met in it, and it is being unmet that so often does the deepest damage.
How shame writes the story
Inside that silence, shame grows. It does not take much to feed it: a careless comment, a glance in the mirror, a culture that measures a woman’s worth through motherhood and leaves no place for the one who says “I wanted the baby, but I could not survive the pregnancy.”
One woman told me she thought she was broken, that she was evil. She was neither. She was terrified, and grieving, and utterly unsupported. But because no one recognised her experience as trauma, she carried it as shame, and shame shaped her life. This is why language and witnessing matter so much. When a woman can finally say what happened, and be met with tenderness rather than judgement, the shame begins to loosen its grip, and the grief can become something that moves rather than something that traps. This is the whole spirit of the RAD Responsible approach to these stories.
If you are carrying something heavy
You do not have to hold this alone, and there is no rush to do anything. If and when you would like a gentle, private starting point to understand the fear that may sit underneath, it is here.
The free Tokophobia Assessment →
How abortion grief and trauma heal
Here is the part I most want you to hold onto. This can heal. Not be erased, and not be forgotten, but integrated, so that it no longer lives in you as raw, unrelenting pain or constant self-blame.
Healing usually has two strands. The first is letting the grief out of hiding: giving it words, giving it witness, giving it the context and compassion it was never allowed. The silence is so often the heaviest part, and simply being able to speak the truth, even to one safe person, can begin to lift it. The second is clearing the stored trauma in the body, the terror and the shame, at the level they actually live. Where fear drove the decision, healing that fear matters too, so it can never make a choice like that on your behalf again. This is the same gentle, body-based work I describe in how to heal reproductive trauma at the root.
You deserve peace with this, whatever happened. And you get to find it in your own time. Support is here if and when you want it, and not a moment before.
Where to go gently from here
If you would like a small next step, here are some gentle options. There is no pressure to take any of them today.
- Betrayed By Your Biology – my book, where these stories are told with care, and where many women have finally felt seen.
- Miscarriage and Loss – a companion piece on grieving and healing reproductive loss of all kinds.
- Fearful to Fearless – my in-depth 1:1 programme, mentioned only as an option for supported work to heal both the grief and any fear underneath. Never something to rush towards.
Frequently asked questions
Is it normal to grieve after an abortion?
Yes. Abortion grief is real and valid, including after a wanted pregnancy. It can be complicated, holding relief and sorrow together, and harder still if it is carried in silence. The grief does not need to be justified to anyone in order to count, and it deserves space, witness and compassion.
Can an abortion be traumatic?
It can be, especially when fear drove the decision, when the pregnancy was wanted, or when it was carried alone and in secret. Like other reproductive trauma, the distress is stored in the body. Often the heaviest part is not the event itself but the silence and shame that follow it.
Why is the silence so painful?
Because being unable to speak something means being unable to be met in it. Secrecy becomes a second loss, of connection and of being fully known. Many women say it was not the abortion that broke them but the pretending, to a partner, to themselves, to the world, with nowhere to put the grief.
Can you heal grief and trauma after an abortion?
Yes. It can be integrated rather than erased, so it no longer sits as raw pain or self-blame. Healing usually means letting the grief out of hiding with witness and compassion, and gently clearing the stored trauma in the body. Where fear drove the decision, healing that fear is part of it too.
By Alexia Leachman, creator of the RAD framework and the Fearless Birthing method. Former tokophobia sufferer, author, host of the Fear Free Childbirth podcast.
About the author: Alexia Leachman works with the reproductive wounds women carry but rarely get to name: from birth, pregnancy, loss, and medical experiences that left a mark. Drawing on Head Trash Clearance and her own path from fear to two fearless births, she helps women gently heal what sits underneath, in their own time. More about Alexia →
Fearless Birthing and Head Trash Clearance are not therapy and are not a substitute for clinical mental health or medical care. If you are struggling or in crisis, please reach out to a qualified professional or your care provider.
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