In a groundbreaking moment 16 years ago, Thomas Beatie etched his name in history as the world’s first man to undergo pregnancy.
Born female, Thomas underwent a gender transition, now identifying as a transgender man. The global spotlight shone on him when news broke of his remarkable journey to parenthood with the birth of his first daughter, Susan
In a surprising turn of events in 2006, he halted his testosterone treatment with the aspiration of conceiving. Facing fertility challenges with his then-wife Nancy, Thomas made the courageous decision to carry the child himself.
The iconic image of Thomas Beatie sporting a heavily pregnant belly first circulated in 2008, creating ripples across the world. Media dubbed Beatie “the pregnant man” and news of his story quickly spread worldwide.
Yet, the journey was far from smooth, with hate emails and death threats pouring in from numerous quarters, including established media outlets.
”Doctors have discriminated against us, turning us away due to their religious beliefs. Health care professionals have refused to call me by a male pronoun or recognize Nancy as my wife. Receptionists have laughed at us. Friends and family have been unsupportive; most of Nancy’s family doesn’t even know I’m transgender,” Thomas later said.
During an extensive 48-hour labor, Susan, the first child of Thomas and Nancy, was born into the world healthy and happy. Thomas, determined to opt for a natural birth, defied expectations. His case marked the first documented instance where a legally recognized male gave birth within a marital union with a woman.
Thomas Thomas Trace Beatie
Posted by Thomas Trace Beatie on Tuesday, February 23, 2016
Over the course of five years without testosterone, Thomas experienced four more pregnancies (one of which resulted in an ectopic pregnancy). Together with his first wife, Nancy, he raised Susan and sons Austin and Jensen, presenting themselves as a traditional family with strong values.
In a significant television debut, Thomas Beatie took center stage with an exclusive hour-long interview on the Oprah Winfrey Show in April 2008. Addressing a global audience, he openly discussed his belief in the reproductive right to bear a child, irrespective of his male gender identity.
During the interview, Beatie emphasized: “It’s not a male or female desire to want to have a child; it’s a human desire. I’m a person, and I have the right to have my own biological child.”
His words echoed a powerful assertion of his personal autonomy and challenged conventional perceptions surrounding gender and parenthood.
In 2016, Thomas entered a new chapter, marrying a new partner, Amber. Despite having known each other since 2012, a tumultuous divorce with Nancy delayed Thomas and Amber’s nuptials.
The couple moved to Oregon with their blended family, consisting of Susan, Austin, Jensen, and Amber’s grandchild Lily.
Reflecting on their bustling household, Thomas shared: “It can get pretty loud with four kids aged 3, 5, 6, and 7, but we love it,” in an interview with Daily Mail.
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Quel rôle est plus convaincant: flic ou maçon? ??? Which look is more convincing?
Posted by Thomas Trace Beatie on Sunday, March 10, 2019
Sixteen years have elapsed since Thomas became a public figure, yet he continues to make occasional appearances on social media and in people’s feeds.
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In a recent interview with USA Today, he shared insights into his current endeavors, revealing that he now works as a stockbroker in Phoenix. He continues to live with his wife Amber, whom he met at the daycare where his children were enrolled.
His older children divide their time between his residence and their mother’s home, located approximately ten miles away.
According to Thomas, he lives a relatively quiet life but once in a while, he does public-speaking jobs and takes on modest acting opportunities.
Looking back on the whirlwind of attention that surrounded him 16 years ago when he graced the front pages, Thomas acknowledged the lasting impact of those significant moments in his life.
à quel métier/rôle j’ai l’air? ?️ What profession or role do I look like?
Posted by Thomas Trace Beatie on Tuesday, May 30, 2023
Reflecting on the past, Thomas, now in his 50s, remarked: “When my story came out, there wasn’t a single person in the public eye as a transgender man — most people had never heard of it.”
”This was pre-Chaz Bono. This was pre-Caitlyn Jenner. This was before anyone knew anything. It was a first exposure for a lot of people. And then on top of that, they can give birth! I think exposing the importance of fertility for trans people was a huge eye-opener.”
”Everything was a whirlwind,” he said. ”But I still don’t regret it,” Thomas shared.
My Nonverbal Son Warned Me about My Husband’s Secret by Writing ‘Dad Lies!’ on His Palm
My husband’s early returns from work — always when our nanny was still there — set off alarm bells. But it was our nonverbal six-year-old, Oliver, who saw the truth. His warning, “Dad lies!” written on his palm in marker, led me to uncover a secret that would shatter our world.
Oliver had always been more observant than most kids his age. Maybe it was because he couldn’t speak and his rare condition meant he had to find other ways to communicate.
A boy playing with toy cars | Source: Midjourney
Whatever the reason, he saw things the rest of us missed, like how his father had been acting strange lately.
I’d noticed the changes gradually, like watching shadows lengthen across our living room floor. First, it was the phone calls he’d take outside, pacing the garden with one hand pressed against his ear.
Then came the mysterious appointments that never quite lined up with his usual schedule. But what really set off alarm bells was when James started coming home early from work.
A man arriving home from work | Source: Midjourney
It should have been a good thing. More family time, right? But something felt off about it, especially since he always seemed to time his arrivals when Tessa, our nanny, was still there.
They’d be in deep conversation when I’d call to check in, their voices dropping to whispers when Oliver was around.
“He’s just being more involved,” my friend Sarah assured me over coffee one morning. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”
A smiling woman in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
I stirred my latte, watching the foam swirl into abstract patterns. “It feels different. Like he’s… hiding something.”
“What makes you think that?”
“He’s distracted. Distant. The other day, I found him sitting in Oliver’s room at midnight, just watching him sleep. When I asked what was wrong, he said ‘nothing’ so quickly it had to be something.”
A worried woman | Source: Midjourney
I’d managed to keep my darker suspicions at bay until one fateful Tuesday afternoon. I left work early after my last meeting was canceled. The house was quiet when I walked in, but I heard low voices coming from the living room.
James and Tessa sat on the sofa, heads close together, speaking in hushed tones. They jumped apart when they saw me like teenagers caught passing notes in class.
“Rachel!” James’s voice cracked slightly. “You’re home early.”
Two people sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
“Meeting got canceled,” I said, the words falling flat between us. “Funny, sounds like yours did too.”
“Yeah, the client backed out last minute.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes, and Tessa’s cheeks flushed pink as she gathered Oliver’s art supplies.
I couldn’t focus on anything else after that. My thoughts spiraled as I prepared dinner, each clink of plates against the counter matching the pounding in my chest.
A worried woman | Source: Midjourney
What if all those early returns home weren’t about spending more time with Oliver? What if James and Tessa…
I couldn’t even complete the thought. The idea of him having an affair with our nanny made me physically ill, but once it took root, I couldn’t shake it.
I watched him across the dinner table, analyzing every gesture, every averted glance. Was he avoiding my eyes? Did that forced smile hide guilt?
A man eating dinner | Source: Midjourney
“How was your afternoon?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.
“Oh, you know. The usual.” James pushed his lasagna around his plate. “Just wanted to get home early to see my favorite people.”
The words that would’ve once warmed my heart now felt like daggers. I noticed Oliver watching us intently, his bright eyes darting between our faces as if reading a story written in our expressions.
A boy seated at a dinner table | Source: Midjourney
After dinner, James headed out to the garden — his convenient new escape, I thought bitterly. I was loading the dishwasher, my mind still churning with suspicions, when Oliver appeared at my elbow.
His small face was scrunched with worry, more serious than I’d ever seen him. He held up his palm, where he’d written two words in blue marker: “Dad lies!”
My heart stopped.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
Somehow, seeing those words validated every fear I’d been trying to suppress. If Oliver had noticed something was wrong, it couldn’t just be my imagination. My sweet, silent boy who saw everything — what exactly had he witnessed?
“What do you mean, sweetie?” I kneeled to his level. “What kind of lies?”
He pointed toward the hall table, where James had left his briefcase. The same briefcase he’d been clutching like a lifeline lately, never letting it out of his sight.
A briefcase on a table | Source: Pexels
“Oliver, honey, that’s private—” I started to say, but he was already dragging it over to me, his eyes intense with purpose.
My hands trembled as I opened the clasp. Inside, instead of the expected lipstick-stained collar or hidden phone, I found a manila folder stuffed with medical documents.
The words jumped out at me like accusations: “Stage 3.” “Aggressive treatment required.” “Survival rate.”
“Oh God,” I whispered, the papers shaking in my hands.
A shocked woman looking at documents | Source: Midjourney
“Rachel?” His voice came from behind me, quiet and defeated. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”
I spun around, tears already streaming down my face. “Find out? When exactly were you planning to tell me that you’re dying?”
He slumped into a kitchen chair, suddenly looking ten years older. “I thought… I thought if I could just handle it myself, get the treatments done quietly…”
“Quietly?” My voice rose.
A woman in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“Is that what all those early afternoons were about? Chemotherapy? And Tessa — she knows?”
“She figured it out,” he admitted. “I needed someone to cover for me when I had appointments. I made her promise not to tell you.”
“Why?” The word came out as a sob. “Did you think I couldn’t handle it? That I wouldn’t want to be there for you?”
A woman glancing to one side | Source: Midjourney
“I wanted to protect you and Oliver. I didn’t want to see that look in your eyes, the one you’re giving me right now.” He reached for my hand. “I didn’t want every moment together to be overshadowed by this… this thing inside me.”
“You don’t get to make that choice for us,” I said, but I let him hold my hand anyway. “We’re supposed to face these things together. That’s what marriage means.”
Oliver appeared between us, tears rolling down his cheeks.
A boy wiping away tears | Source: Pexels
He held up his palm again, but this time it read: “I love Dad.”
James broke down then, really broke down, pulling Oliver into his lap. “I love you too, buddy. So much. I’m sorry I scared you with all the secrets.”
I wrapped my arms around them both, breathing in the familiar smell of James’s aftershave, and feeling Oliver’s small body trembling against us.
“No more secrets,” I whispered. “Whatever time we have left, we face it together.”
A woman speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney
The next few weeks were a blur of doctor’s appointments and difficult conversations. I took a leave of absence from work, and we told Oliver’s school what was happening. Tessa stayed on, but now she was part of our support system rather than James’s confidante.
She brought us meals on treatment days and sometimes just sat with me while James slept off the effects of the chemotherapy.
“I’m so sorry,” she said one afternoon, her eyes filling with tears. “Keeping this from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But he was so scared of hurting you…”
A woman speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney
“I understand,” I told her, and I did.
James had always been our protector, the one who checked for monsters under Oliver’s bed and kept spare batteries for every flashlight in case of storms. Of course, he’d try to shield us from this too.
Oliver started drawing more than ever. He filled pages with pictures of our family — always together, always holding hands.
A boy drawing pictures | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes he drew James in a hospital bed, but he always drew him smiling, surrounded by love hearts and rainbows. His art teacher told us it was his way of processing everything, of telling the story he couldn’t voice.
One day, I found James sitting in Oliver’s room, surrounded by these drawings. His eyes were red-rimmed, but he was smiling.
“Remember when we first found out about his condition?” he asked. “How terrified we were that he’d never be able to express himself?”
A solemn man sitting in a child’s bedroom | Source: Midjourney
I sat down beside him, picking up a particularly colorful drawing. “And now he’s teaching us how to communicate better.”
“I was so wrong, Rachel. About all of it. I thought being strong meant handling everything alone, but look at him.” James gestured to a drawing where Oliver had depicted our family as superheroes. “He knows that real strength is letting people in, letting them help.”
That night, as we watched Oliver arrange his latest masterpiece on the refrigerator, James squeezed my hand.
People holding hands | Source: Pexels
“I was so scared of ruining what time we had left,” he whispered. “I didn’t realize that hiding the truth was already doing that.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder, watching our silent, wise little boy. “Sometimes the hardest things to say are the ones that need saying the most.”
Oliver turned to us then, holding up both palms. On one, he’d written “Family.” On the other: “Forever.”
And in that moment, despite everything, I believed him.
A hopeful woman | Source: Midjourney
Here’s another story: When Belinda jokes about skipping her SIL’s strict vegetarian Thanksgiving, her husband Jeremy’s reaction is anything but funny. His sudden anger and ultimatum for divorce leave her reeling. As tensions rise, Belinda uncovers secrets that hint at a far deeper betrayal hidden in plain sight.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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