The Best Snacks to Eat After Having an Abortion

Last Updated on September 17, 2025 by Michael

Okay so you just had an abortion and now you’re googling what to eat because apparently that’s a thing people google. The medical pamphlet suggested crackers and clear liquids like you’re recovering from food poisoning in a Victorian novel.

Absolutely not.

Your uterus just did the biological equivalent of Marie Kondo-ing itself and it deserves better than saltines and ginger ale. It deserves cheese. It deserves chocolate. It deserves whatever the fuck is in those Crunchwrap Supremes from Taco Bell at 2 AM.

Iron: The Nutrient That Justifies Eating Garbage

Here’s what nobody tells you about iron-rich foods: they’re all terrible. Liver? Tastes like depression. Spinach? Lies about being food. Lentils? Small rocks pretending to be edible.

But wait. Plot twist.

Dark chocolate has iron. Beef jerky has iron. Fortified cereals have iron, which means you can literally eat Cocoa Puffs in bed while binge-watching reality TV and call it medical recovery. This is not a drill. This is science. Sort of.

You know what you should do? Make trail mix. But not regular trail mix. Recovery trail mix. That’s regular trail mix but you add whatever candy was on sale at CVS and maybe some of those yogurt-covered pretzels that are basically candy wearing a health food costume. Throw in some dried mango because fruit or whatever. Boom. Health food.

The cashier at the store watching you buy six bags of fun-size Snickers and a container of mixed nuts doesn’t need to know your business. You’re making medicine.

Carbs: Because Your Body Deserves a Parade

Everyone acts like carbs are the enemy. You know what the real enemy is? Feeling like shit and not having pasta about it.

You want to know something? Nobody in the history of recovery has ever thought “You know what would make this better? Quinoa.” Nobody. Not once. Not ever.

Make the mac and cheese. The whole box. With extra cheese. And breadcrumbs on top if you’re feeling fancy, which you won’t be, because fancy is for people who aren’t currently wearing the same sweatpants for the third day straight.

Hydration Is Fake But Whatever

Everybody’s obsessed with hydration. “Drink water!” they say. “Eight glasses a day!” they insist.

You know what has water in it? Everything. Soup. Coffee. That melted ice cream you’re drinking from the container. It’s all water with extra steps.

Get one of those absolutely ridiculous 64-ounce water bottles that looks like you’re carrying around a small aquarium. Fill it with whatever you want. Lemonade? Sure. Iced coffee? Why not. That weird vitamin water that tastes like someone described fruit to an alien? Perfect.

Gatorade was literally invented for athletes, and recovering from a medical procedure is basically a sport, so drink the blue one. Or the red one. Or that disturbing neon green one that looks like it should glow in the dark. Your body needs electrolytes. Probably. Who actually knows what electrolytes do? Nobody, but they sound important.

Treats That Would Make Your Doctor Cry (Good)

Let’s talk about ice cream.

Not frozen yogurt. Not “nice cream” made from bananas. Real ice cream. The kind with chunks of things in it. The kind that costs $8 a pint because it has a fancy name like “Chocolate Therapy” or “Caramel Sutra” or some other vaguely inappropriate pun.

Buy three pints. Eat them in whatever order feels right. For breakfast? Revolutionary. As a midnight snack? Classic. Instead of lunch? You’re an innovator.

Those cookies from the bougie bakery that cost more than a whole meal? Buy a dozen. That imported chocolate that’s allegedly “single origin” and costs more than your phone bill? You’ve earned it. The family-size bag of chips that claims to serve twelve people? Those twelve people are all you, at different times today.

Protein (Or Whatever, Who Cares)

Your body’s trying to heal itself because bodies are overachievers like that. Fine. Give it protein. But make it weird.

String cheese at 3 AM while standing in front of the open fridge like you’re in a horror movie but the monster is just your hunger? Protein.

Peanut butter eaten directly from the jar with a spoon while hate-watching a show you can’t stop watching? Protein.

Those protein bars that are clearly just candy bars having an identity crisis? Eat seven. Call it a balanced diet.

Greek yogurt, but only if you put so much granola and honey on it that it defeats the purpose entirely.

Rotisserie chicken, but you eat it with your hands straight from the container while sitting on your kitchen floor because plates are for people who have their shit together.

Snack Deployment Strategy

You need snacks everywhere. This is not optional. This is survival.

Couch command center: Build a fortress of snacks around you. Sweet on the left, salty on the right, chocolate hidden under the throw pillow for emergencies. You’re not being lazy; you’re being strategic.

Bedroom bunker: Crackers in the nightstand. Candy in the drawer. That water bottle you’ve been refilling without washing for a week. Create a snack radius where you never have to move more than an arm’s length for sustenance.

Bathroom stash: Okay don’t actually eat in the bathroom that’s gross. But maybe keep some crackers right outside the door. For emergencies.

Car cache: Those granola bars from 2019 that are basically fossilized? They’re still good. Probably. Desperate times.

Things That Can Get in the Bin

Salad. All salad. Unless it’s covered in so much dressing and cheese and croutons that it’s basically nachos with lettuce.

Anything anyone describes as “clean eating.” Nothing about your current situation requires clean anything.

Smoothie bowls that cost $18 and taste like grass had a baby with disappointment.

Whatever your most annoying friend is selling from their MLM this month. No, you don’t want their protein shakes that taste like chalk fucked a vitamin.

That bone broth everyone’s obsessed with. It’s soup without the good parts. It’s the equivalent of going to a concert and only listening to the sound check.

Actually Though

You might feel like emotional garbage. You might feel relieved. You might feel nothing except an overwhelming desire to eat your body weight in mozzarella sticks.

All valid. All normal. All perfectly fucking fine.

There’s no Pinterest-worthy recovery here. No aesthetic healing journey with perfectly arranged acai bowls and yoga at sunrise. There’s just you, maybe some cramping, and a really good excuse to eat whatever makes this suck less.

Some people will have opinions about your food choices. Those people can write their opinions on a grain of rice and feed it to an ant, because that’s about how much their opinion matters right now.

The Takeaway (Pun Intended)

Order the takeaway. All of it. Order Thai food for lunch and pizza for dinner. Order breakfast for dinner and dinner for breakfast. Order those wings even though you know they’re going to destroy your stomach because future you is future you’s problem.

Stock up on snacks like you’re preparing for the apocalypse but the apocalypse specifically requires Oreos and those little cheese crackers shaped like goldfish.

Eat chocolate for breakfast. Eat cheese for lunch. Eat cereal for dinner straight from the box while standing in your kitchen like some sort of feral house goblin.

Your body did something major. It evicted some cells. It rearranged some furniture. It did administrative work on a biological level. The least you can do is feed it some good trash.

So grab that family-size bag of whatever, park yourself somewhere comfortable, and remember: anyone who judges your post-abortion snack choices can fuck all the way off and then fuck off some more when they get there.

Now someone pass the Cheetos.