Portugal Plans Miscarriage Leave Shake-Up, Fathers Risk Losing Pay

Foreign professionals settled in Portugal woke up this week to a policy debate that could reshuffle parental leave rules, shift costs from employers to Social Security, and redefine how the law recognises the mourning that often follows an unexpected miscarriage. While the Government insists the overhaul will give mothers a minimum 14-day paid break, opposition parties claim the plan quietly scraps an existing three-day entitlement for both parents—and in the process brands paternal grief as an optional extra.

What the Government Wants to Change

Lisbon’s centre-right Cabinet has filed a draft update to the Código do Trabalho that would erase the falta por luto gestacional—the automatic three days of fully paid leave created in 2023 after a nationwide campaign by bereaved parents. In its place, every pregnancy loss, whether spontaneous or voluntary, would fall under the “licença por interrupção da gravidez”. Under the new rubric, mothers could step away from work for 14 to 30 consecutive days, on 100 % pay financed by Segurança Social. The other parent, however, would access time off under the generic provision for assistência a familiar, capped at 15 days and often unpaid. Advocates of the bill call the switch a “technical clean-up” aimed at removing legal overlap and ensuring longer protection for women. Critics see a stealthy downgrade for fathers—and extra red tape for couples experiencing very early losses that might never reach a hospital.

Why the Proposal Sparked a Firestorm

Within hours of the draft becoming public, Livre, Bloco de Esquerda and PAN accused the administration of “crueldade” and an “ataque às famílias”. PAN spokesperson Inês Sousa Real argued that fusing miscarriage leave with abortion rules is “absurdo”, because grief and medical recovery are not the same phenomenon. Fabian Figueiredo of the Bloco said the move represents “um retrocesso inequívoco” that ignores fathers altogether. Even the ruling party’s own feminist caucus, Mulheres Socialistas, warned of a “subtração de direitos”, stressing that the existing 15-day medical licence already covers therapeutic abortions—but not the emotional fallout of a natural loss. Outside the political arena, groups like Projecto Artémis and Pais Coragem have urged citizens to email MPs and organise vigils, framing the issue as a litmus test of Portugal’s commitment to gender-equal family policy.

What It Means for Foreign Workers in Portugal

Expats employed under Portuguese contracts should pay close attention to three practical shifts. First, any miscarriage—no matter how early—will now require a medical certificate to unlock paid days off. In rural areas or for digital nomads using private insurance, that paperwork can be harder to secure within statutory deadlines. Second, the cost of the mother’s leave moves from the firm’s payroll to state coffers, which could subtly improve job security for non-Portuguese women wary of employer backlash. Third, partners will need to tap a different legal article that grants days off to care for a family member. Because those absences may be unpaid, foreign families relying on a single income could face a short-term cash pinch. Labour lawyers advise requesting written clarification from HR departments now, before the bill’s language is final, to avoid unpleasant surprises later in the year.

How Portugal Compares to Its Neighbours

The controversy also highlights a wider European tug-of-war over gestational bereavement rights. The United Kingdom is preparing to roll out a two-week paid leave for any loss before 24 weeks, closing a gap that previously ignored early miscarriages. France already guarantees parents 15 days, split between employer and Social Security funding. Spain lacks a dedicated statute, although pregnant workers can access maternity sick-pay in specific circumstances. Against that backdrop, Portugal’s new minimum for mothers—14 days at 100 % pay—is competitive, but its reduced protection for fathers stands out. Advocates fear the asymmetry could discourage men from taking time off, reinforcing the notion that miscarriage is solely a women’s issue.

Voices from the Ground

Psychologist Ana Margarida Carvalho, who runs a support group at Porto’s Hospital de São João, says the debate has unintentionally exposed “a cultural blind spot around luto in Portugal”. She notes that couples from Northern Europe often arrive expecting structured counselling and employer flexibility, only to discover a more improvised approach locally. “Providing additional days to mothers is important,” she adds, “but shared grieving rituals are what prevent long-term mental-health fallout.” Meanwhile, João and Emily Thompson, a Portuguese-American couple in Braga, recall losing their first pregnancy last December. “We each got three days—barely enough to register the paperwork,” João says. “If Emily can now take two weeks, that’s great, but I’ll need to burn annual leave or go unpaid. It feels like the burden still falls unevenly.” Their testimony echoes a growing consensus among clinicians: emotional parity matters as much as medical recovery.

Next Steps in Parliament

The bill enters committee stage later this month, where opposition MPs plan to file amendments reinstating at least five paid days for the second parent and clarifying that very early losses—often confirmed only by a home test—should not be excluded for lack of medical evidence. The Government controls enough votes to pass the core text, yet back-bench unease inside the Socialist bench suggests a final-hour compromise is possible. For now, HR departments, multinational firms and Portugal’s sizable freelance community would be wise to draft provisional guidelines. Should the legislation clear its final vote unchanged, the new rules are slated to come into force on 1 January 2026, giving employers roughly five months to revise internal policies, payroll software and employee handbooks.

In short, Portugal is on the brink of expanding leave for mothers while trimming the explicit, paid acknowledgment of paternal sorrow. For expatriate families, the outcome will determine not only how long they can stay home in a moment of loss, but also how the country they now call home defines family itself.