But then he met Thomas. Ten years his senior and also a transgender man, Tom, a graphic designer, had two children from a previous marriage: Greg, 12, and Logan, 10. Last year the couple wed in California. Moore’s legal gender status remains female, while Tom is legally male, thus allowing them to obtain a marriage license in the state (“We’re going to use that nice little loophole,” Moore quips). Soon he changed his mind about having a child: “Once I settled down with Tom, having children just seemed like a fit.”

After consulting with the doctor who prescribed his testosterone, Moore stopped taking hormones 10 months before conception; he retained his low voice and hirsute face but was able to become pregnant after being artificially inseminated with a friend’s sperm. His son, Miles, was due to join the family in March. “Ever since I was three months pregnant, the kids have been asking how many days until the baby comes,” Moore says.

The experience hasn’t been without struggle. Before the family moved to California, they lived in Las Cruces, N.M., a fast-growing town with big skies and, according to Moore, big biases. Moore initially wanted to keep his pregnancy a secret, fearing the reactions of his neighbors. “I never wanted to go anywhere by myself,” he says. His anxiety kept him indoors instead of running the usual pregnancy errands, buying the avocados that became his most consistent craving, and shopping for baby clothes.

Eventually, Moore and Thomas decided to move to Weed, a town of 3,000 people near the Klamath Mountains of Northern California. That’s where Thomas was born and raised, and his deep roots in the community mean that while the couple still face some perplexed looks, they also “know who to trust and who not to trust,” Moore says.

The new surroundings also brought Moore something else he’d been looking for: a doctor. Because of the lack of awareness surrounding pregnancy among transgender men, finding someone to guide him through this pregnancy has posed major difficulties. “Tom and I called every doctor in New Mexico, and that’s not an exaggeration,” Moore says. “The second they found out that I was a man who was pregnant, they’d laugh like it was a joke and hang up the phone, or they would suddenly not be taking new patients, even though they had been just a few minutes before.” Part of Moore’s decision to go public with his story is to remove the stigma for other transgender men who need medical care.He’s hopeful that the more men come out about their pregnancies, the more doctors will be willing to take on patients like him. “There’s still just so much uncertainty, so much confusion,” he says.