Beard All Gone

I shaved my beard on Friday...my dad beard.

I started growing a beard in January after we found out that Amy was pregnant. This was the first time I had intentionally grown a full beard as I have always been a little self conscious of my somewhat patchy and asymmetric distribution of facial hair. However, as I explained to friends months later (after we went public with our expectancy), both Amy and I come from "bearded-dad" families (although my dad was better known for his awesome mustache), so it seemed appropriately dad-like for me to go for it. The ability to cultivate a good beard seemed to me tied to fatherhood.



I think it took a few weeks for people to notice, or at least to comment on, my beard, although I suppose that it isn't all that unusual for men to grow beards in January in Chicago. For me, in those months when we were keeping Amy's pregnancy a secret from (almost) everyone, my beard enabled me to tangibly acknowledge the change taking place in Amy’s and my life together.

We reached the twelve week mark near the end of March, so we thought it would be funny to announce the pregnancy on April 1^st. We further decided that the fastest way to get the word out in California, Illinois, and beyond would be via Facebook. So, on the morning of April Fools Day, Amy wrote that she was "eating breakfast for two" and I wrote that I was "cultivating my dad beard." My private way of declaring my impending fatherhood became part of the coordinated public revealing.

I hadn't planned on keeping the beard throughout the entire pregnancy. I wanted two things: 1) to be able to grow a beard, and 2) to have a beard in October when I welcomed my child into the world. I figured I would shave it off before summer and grow it back in the fall. After all, who wants a beard in August?

Those plans, like so many others, changed after our first ultrasound in late May.

Leah's dad had a beard on the day she was born; the same beard he grew for her when he first found out she was coming.


I kept the dad beard long after Leah had gone. My beard was a part of my relationship with my little girl, and shaving it would not just be shaving it. Since the beard was a symbol to me, shedding it should be a ritual. I decided that I would shave on the day after Leah should have arrived. So, I shaved on Friday. In doing so I acknowledge the loss that we continue to experience.

My beard will grow back, but it will never be the same.