Trapped by Pregnancy: Why the Law Must Catch Up with Reproductive Coercion

We have all heard the narrative.

“She got pregnant to trap him.”

“She’s after his money.”

“No wonder he doesn’t want anything to do with her.”

That was the story I heard on repeat when I was impregnated as a child.

If anyone asked why an older man in a position of power got a 15-year-old girl pregnant, I did not hear it. The scrutiny was not on him. It was on me.

And I have never heard women say, “he did this to trap me.” Even when it is exactly what happened. Even when the evidence is clear. We do not have the language for it. That is why stories like Olivia Nervo’s matter.

Liv Nervo, one half of the Grammy award-winning DJ duo NERVO, believed she was building a family with a man she loved. They planned a pregnancy together. He travelled the world to be with her for her fertile days.

At six months pregnant, she discovered the truth. Her partner, a wealthy businessman, was living multiple lives. He had other relationships, children and pregnancies, that Liv did not know about.

He later admitted he had deceived her because he knew she would leave. He wanted a baby with her, so he withheld the truth.

That matters. It shows he understood that informed consent would have changed her decision. It shows intent. It shows control. This is reproductive coercion.

Reproductive coercion is about power over a woman’s body, her choices and her future. It can take many forms. Some women are forced into pregnancy. Others are forced into abortion. Some have their contraception sabotaged. Others are deceived into life-altering decisions they would never have made if they had known the truth.

A poll of 1,000 women found half had experienced some form of reproductive coercion. One in three reported pressure to have sex without contraception. One in ten experienced contraception sabotage. Fifteen per cent were forced to terminate a pregnancy they wanted to keep. This is happening every day.

Yet our legal system struggles to recognise it.

If someone knowingly transmits a sexually transmitted infection, it is assault. If a condom is removed without consent, it is rape. In both cases, consent is invalidated by deception. But when deception leads to pregnancy, the law becomes uncertain.

In Liv’s case, the abuse did not stop with deception. It continued through courts. Legal threats, non-disclosure agreements and financial pressure were used to silence her. Contact was controlled. Speaking openly was restricted. The system at times treated her as the problem, rather than recognising the pattern of coercive control.

Reproductive coercion is referenced in statutory guidance under the Domestic Abuse Act 2021 and the Serious Crime Act 2015. But in practice, it is rarely named, recorded or prosecuted. It has no clear home in law.

Consent cannot be meaningful if it is built on deception. If someone deliberately withholds critical information to secure a pregnancy, that is not a free choice. We have seen similar principles recognised elsewhere. The undercover policing scandals made clear that relationships built on fundamental deception invalidate consent. The same logic must apply here.

So what needs to change? First, recognition. Cases like Liv’s must be acknowledged. Second, clarity in law. Reproductive coercion must be explicitly defined, with clear pathways for investigation and prosecution. Third, training across the justice system to ensure patterns of coercive behaviour are properly understood.

The question is no longer whether reproductive coercion exists. We know it does. The question is whether our systems are prepared to recognise it. No woman should ever hear, “I was going to tell you after you had the baby,” and have that dismissed. Without recognition, there is no accountability. Without accountability, there is no protection.

Change does not come from the state alone. It comes from speaking out, connecting and refusing to accept that this is just the way things are. If any part of this feels familiar, reach out. You are not alone.

Because the moment we start naming this for what it is, we begin to take back control. And that is where change begins.