We’re Going on a Bear Hunt
“We’re going on a bear hunt.
We’re going to catch a big one.
What a beautiful day!
We’re not scared.”
Michael Rosen’s We’re Going on a Bear Hunt was one of my all time favorite books to read as a kid. Chanting the words to our own clapping rhythm, acting out the story, and making sound effects to the best parts like squelch, squirch-ing through the thick oozy mud are memories I hope to recreate with my children. I can still hear the way we used to say, “we’re not scared.” Sing-songy like it was sort of a challenge, almost a dare.
Come at me, bro. Show me what you’ve got!
Ever noticed it’s the times we are most scared we declare ourselves not to be? As if we can ward off our fears by running out into the night and shouting, “I’m not afraid anymore!,” Kevin McAllister style. And, in truth, I guess that’s kind of how it works. We claim bravery to make us brave. We might be scared, but we will do it anyway. Even if we’ve got to puff out our chests and pretend some moxie to make it through. We have to - the only way forward is through.
“We can’t go over it.
We can’t go under it.
We’ve got to go through it.”
If we want to see what’s on the other side of the hard stuff, we must push through. Hard stuff might be facing the fallout from COVID19 or getting uncomfortable enough to do the work of becoming an Antiracist. We’ve got to go through it. Maybe it’s digging ourselves out of debt, struggling to start over some place new, or losing a much needed job. We’ve got to go through it. It could be chasing after a dream, creating healthy boundaries in our relationships, epically failing where we wanted most to succeed. We’ve got to go through it.
My hard thing? (Okay, one of my hard things — let’s be real, we never experience just one at time.) Infertility. I know. You know. Yes, I’m still here! Isn’t that crazy?! Four freaking years, and I am still going through it; this season of waiting, this monthly carousel of expectation and disappointment, this endless cycle of decision making. I’ve tried to go over it. You better believe I’ve tried to go under it. I’ve even contemplated turning around and going home. But I am still on this Bear Hunt. I’m going to catch a big one! It is a beautiful day, and I’m not scared. (Wink wink) I’ve got to go through it; it’s the only way.
As I’ve stumble-tripped through the big dark forest of infertility, I’ve found myself covered in mud and filled with gratitude. Don’t get it twisted like the gnarly roots I keep trying to dodge — this sucks. Infertility is the kind of awful I wouldn’t wish on anyone, but I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Every time I fall face first into the earth, I want to curl up and stay there. But I don’t. I get up, brush the dirt off my hands, and keep moving. Every time I lose my way in the dark, I want to sink into the forest floor and stay there. But I don’t. I get up, take a deep breath, and keep looking for the light. No matter what waits on the other side of this wood, I am walking out. And I’m walking out a different person. A stronger person. A more patient, more vulnerable, more humble, more brave person. And not just pretend brave anymore! Even my empathy (which I thought knew no bounds) has grown. I am more willing to ask for help and to offer it. Hideous forest creatures like bitterness and envy, pride and anger, shame and self loathing have ambushed me countless times along the way. I have had to forgive myself. I have had to forgive others. I have allowed my loneliness to be turned into a love affair. I have challenged God with questions about feeling forgotten, unworthy, and unloved. He has challenged me right back with answers about being seen, valued, and immeasurably loved. Constantly, I am learning about surrender, and the more I learn, the less all encompassing the forest becomes. Never could I have imagined standing in the big dark forest, not knowing how near or far I am from thinning trees and streaky sunshine, feeling thankful! Going through it, going through infertility has turned me into the most grateful mom. And I don’t mean I will be more grateful for my children than you are for your own. I want to be clear when I say that because of infertility, I am the most grateful version of a mom that I could ever be. And most importantly, most recently, still in the thick of the forest, I have said yes to my Mama Heart. I’ve been hiding it away afraid of being hurt, of being wrong, of not being allowed. I’ve been scared that if I love on other kids that it will be too painful, that I won’t have enough left by the time I make it out of the woods. My scarcity mindset has been confronted and asked to kindly leave. Even if I never get to mother my own child, I am letting my Mama Heart run free. This is a massive gift God has given me, and keeping it to myself isn’t fair. Infertility is HARD, but I’m thankful for the growth produced by having to go through it. The sharp edges of this forest have refined me into someone I like more than the person who first stumbled in. Gratitude makes the hard things better, easier to bear. Like the book says right before claiming bravery, “what a beautiful day!”
After our declarations of courage, stumble-tripping into growth (in more ways than one), and maybe even finding gratitude along the way, what does it look like once we go through the hard thing? What is on the other side? What will the world look like after COVID19? Will I ever be able to truthfully call myself an Antiracist? Will I be daring enough to move beyond my failures? Will I end up with a child of my own? What comes next? I wish I knew. Going through hard things would be much easier if we knew the outcome, wouldn’t it? One of my best friends also went through infertility, and she used to say to me, “if I just knew that I was going to end up with a baby at some point, I’d be fine.”** I share that sentiment. If I just knew what was going to happen, I’d be okay. (I’m a planner, so I’d also love a when, but I’m willing to compromise.) While I would love a peek into the unknown, I think we’re designed this way on purpose. If we knew all that we would face, we may never leave our homes again let alone go on a Bear Hunt! If we skipped ahead to the end, we wouldn’t experience necessary growth. If we knew how our lives played out, we’d miss out on the gift of faith, the wonder of the unexpected, the thrill of hope. God designed us with free will - we get to choose our own adventure! I also think we were designed to need Him. How wonderful that He wants to go on our adventures with us. I know it’s because He is with me that I can’t stop the hope in my heart telling me what comes next will be beautiful! I don’t know what it will be, but He does. That’s what keeps me moving even when I find myself tiptoe tiptoe-ing through a narrow gloomy cave. I’ve got to go through it, but I don’t have to go alone.
Keep going through the hard stuff, friends. Let it change you. Take courage, dig for gratitude, become the best version of yourself. And definitely don’t step into the swirling whirling snowstorm alone. It might not feel like it now, but it could be the most exciting part of the story. It’s where the adventure happens! And who knows, you might just be brave enough to befriend that bear when you catch it.
**My best friend DID end up with her miracle baby. And even not knowing how it was going to turn out ahead of time... she went through it. What a beautiful day, indeed!
