Post-Conatus News Meander 3: Nicola Young Jackson

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Publisher: In-Sight Publishing

Publisher Founding: March 1, 2014

Web Domain: http://www.in-sightpublishing.com

Location: Fort Langley, Township of Langley, British Columbia, Canada

Journal: In-Sight: Independent Interview-Based Journal

Journal Founding: August 2, 2012

Frequency: Three (3) Times Per Year

Review Status: Non-Peer-Reviewed

Access: Electronic/Digital & Open Access

Fees: None (Free)

Volume Numbering: 13

Issue Numbering: 1

Section: A

Theme Type: Idea

Theme Premise: “Outliers and Outsiders”

Theme Part: 32

Formal Sub-Theme: Post-Conatus News Meander

Individual Publication Date: December 1, 2024

Issue Publication Date: January 1, 2025

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Word Count: 4,679

Image Credits: Photo by Cassidy Dickens on Unsplash.

International Standard Serial Number (ISSN): 2369-6885

Please see the footnotes, bibliography, and citations, after the publication.*

Abstract

Nicola Young Jackson and I used to be on the same team at Conatus News out of the United Kingdom. I decided to catch up. Jackson discussed her transition from leading the International Humanist Youth Movement to becoming a mother, working in tech startups, and eventually qualifying as a funeral celebrant. She reflected on her experiences conducting her first funeral and balancing motherhood, work, and personal growth. Jacobsen shared insights into his family’s experiences with death, humour at funerals, and running for fitness. They also touched on parenting, humanism, and genealogy.

Keywords: ADHD self-medication through running, attachment parenting style, breastfeeding advocacy concerns, challenging parenting norms, humanist funeral services, mother-daughter relationships, non-traditional parenting insights.

Post-Conatus News Meander 3: Nicola Young Jackson

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: Longtime friends, it’s been a bit. So, how many years has it been? 

Nicola Young Jackson: At least seven. So, it’s been a long time since we last spoke. That would have been in 2018. Oh, wait—yes, it’s been a while.

Jacobsen: I’ve reached out to some people, either from the group, writers, or even editors who were part of it, to see what’s new. What happens when people come together for a common objective for a year or two and then go their separate ways? So, from 2018 to 2024, what have you been up to?

Jackson: When we met, I was the International Humanist Youth Movement president. I’ve since left that behind. I planned to volunteer as a humanist chaplain, providing prison pastoral support. After volunteering 40 hours a week for so long, I’d have so much free time.

People in prison are often the loneliest. I worked for a helpline; the prisoners were the most distressed callers. I completed the course and qualified, but getting into prison chaplaincy takes much work. They don’t even reply to messages.

At the same time, I was also trying to get a baby. My partner pointed out that after all the effort I had made to get into prison chaplaincy, they might turn me away if I became pregnant. So, I gave up that goal entirely and focused on my career. I worked in marketing, transitioned into communications, and soon after, I got pregnant.

My life became centred around that, and pregnancy was tough. I was constantly sick for the entire nine months. Then, not long after, I got pregnant again and was sick for another nine months. During this time, I worked with my partner on a tech startup for marketing software.

It has been successful, generating more than £1,000,000 in revenue, which we’re pleased with. We also launched another venture, a sales software startup, which we’ve been promoting. But honestly, I’ve been feeling a bit bored with my role. Even though the industry is fascinating, our software is incredible. I love attending conferences and seeing the excitement in people’s eyes when they realize they need it; my role hasn’t been as engaging.

I’ve taken a back seat to allow flexibility in taking time off when my children are sick or during school holidays. I’m no longer dealing with clients; I manage the backend operations—finance, HR, compliance, and many contracts, which I can do anytime.

After six years of this, I needed a change, so I qualified as a funeral celebrant. Last Friday, I conducted my first funeral. It was an amazing experience.

Like you, Scott, I love learning about people. It was wonderful because the man was so interesting and well-loved. He had lived a long, happy life and had faced tough times, but everyone who wrote about him shared the same heartfelt sentiments.

He was kind, always gave his time, and wanted to help. I thought it was lovely but was very sad when I delivered it. I couldn’t look at his family when I read their words because they were all devastated.

But he was old, and every great life has to end. But I thought, yes, it’s that privilege to be part of that and part of his last celebration. Since we call it a celebration of life, this wasn’t in a crematorium. It was in a lovely function room, and nobody else was there.

They—which is a nice way to do it because the focus is on life. There was an older woman, a friend of mine; she was in her sixties at the time. She’s probably in her seventies now. She didn’t have the formal qualifications to do these types of services. Still, she was able to attend some deaths—not the funerals themselves, but the actual deaths at the bedside—because that’s what the person wanted, to have her or others there, taking part in that process, the final moments of life for the person. So, she also felt a great privilege to participate in that, though I can’t imagine it being easy.

Jacobsen: Our family watched, on the Jacobsen side, Grandpa die together because we knew he was sick. His body was attacking itself. So, he was on a machine, and we watched the machine slowly turn off for about four hours, from 8 AM to noon. Then, when noon hit, that was it. That was… it’s a powerful experience and a moment of reflection on many things.

The funeral path is probably meaningful for serving the community and others. You’re right that it’s about learning about people and, more fundamentally, about pursuing something meaningful to you. It’s a wise life choice. Yes, you get to do the writing, learn about someone, and then try to represent them as best you can.

Jackson: And they said I had done a good job getting his essence, which is what I aimed for.

Jacobsen: Are these services volunteer or paid services?

Jackson: They’re paid. I started with a low rate. Normally, memorials cost around £300 to £400, and I charged £200 for my first one, just in case I didn’t do well. So yes, it’s a paid job. Some people are successful enough to do two daily and make a lot. I am curious how they managed it because writing took me hours and hours. Then there’s the practice. 

Jacobsen: After a certain time, do you think you start finding categories of what people want for a funeral? They may have expedited processes for more skeletal things, and then you put some meat and life into them.

Jackson: The thoughts on life and death—there’s a structure that humanists choose. So, thoughts on life and death are tailored for the person. Your thoughts will differ for a child versus someone in their sixties or nineties. 

Jacobsen: But once you’ve got the wording, do you have the intro and the description of humanism prepared beforehand? And then you edit it for the person, right?

Jackson: Yes. 

Jacobsen: What was the feeling, before even entering that environment, of people giving an in memoriam for a deeply loved person? Being a humanist, helping with funeral services, and doing some public good for the Commons in a humanistic way is an abstraction in many ways; it’s very different from being at the helm during that portion of the in-person service. When you finally walk into that space, it’s a much different experience, especially compared to hearing a loved one pass. When you walk into that space, things change. It’s no longer an abstraction.

Jackson: Yes. For this family, I didn’t meet them in advance. I talked to them online and over email. That was the thing I was most nervous about. My mentor called it “intruding on grief.”

When I see a family in grief, I’m usually good at automatically mirroring people’s emotions without effort. But this is the one time when you can’t. They might be sitting there sobbing, but I am not usually the one who handles sitting there sobbing with them. However, you can’t be completely cold or put up a barrier.

So it’s about finding that middle ground. But everyone who knows me would say, “I’ve never seen you behave weirdly in any social situation; you’ll be fine.” I thought, “I can’t even think of a time I’ve behaved strangely.” One of my neighbours, who I’m not close friends with, had some trauma. When she told me, I immediately cried.

A few days later, I asked her how she was, and I cried again. But I didn’t have to be professional in that situation. When she initially told me the upsetting news, I wasn’t expecting it—I was putting the bins out. Suddenly, it was like, “Whoa, that’s a real weight on me.” But in this case, you’re prepared; you know what you’re going into. It’s sad that even if someone’s death is a release after a long illness, it’s still sad. Even when people have been sick for a long time, and the suffering finally ends, there’s still that sadness because the person they loved is gone.

Jacobsen: What was the humour from the family like to add a bit of levity to the moment? I know my grandfather’s story but want to hear yours first.

Jackson: Yes, they wanted it to be mostly fun, and it was. There was much humour. I’m still determining how much confidential stuff I can share, but this: his job was important to him, and some people there wrote a funny poem about him. I practiced that poem over and over again because it was amazing. It was written by people he worked with, making everyone laugh.

I also used in-jokes from the family often in the service. They had their humour and memories that I incorporated, which lightened the mood.

There were quite a few things I thought might be in-jokes, but I wasn’t sure, so I kept the wording, and people laughed. One of the daughters had a name that could be pronounced differently. It turned out hers was pronounced a third way. But I knew to check, so I did when I mentioned it, and they said, “Hi, yes. We love hearing all the different silly pronunciations.”

I said it right five times, but on the sixth time, I got it wrong, and the whole room laughed. Then, I got it right for the rest of the service. But I feel like it’s that release—grief builds up pressure, and humour provides that release. So, humour is important at a funeral in certain contexts.

When a child or baby dies, there’s no humour in that. But in this case, we could joke and laugh about all the funny quirks of the person’s personality, and that humour became a release from the trauma and grief.

Jacobsen: Years ago, they asked for the last person to give a speech for my grandfather’s funeral on the Jacobsen side. I wasn’t planning on speaking, but they had one more spot, so I said, “Fine, I’ll do it.”

I got up in classic funeral attire–the classic look—black dress shoes, black dress pants, black blazer, black tie, and white dress shirt. My hair was combed over—what’s it called? The ivy cut. I had my glasses on, and back then, they were a bit more square—like Superman or Clark Kent glasses.

So I get up there. The talks had been very dreary, with people on the verge of tears, and this was the pillar of the family we were mourning. My first line was, “All looks to the contrary; I did not just return from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.” There was a huge laugh. Then another laugh from the back, and I hear, “Jesus, Scotty!” The tension in the room immediately released. It was a gamble, but it worked.

How did you feel the room to know that humour would work, even in small talk with people, to make it more comfortable?

Jackson: Walking in felt weird because everyone had written their thoughts, and I was reading their words. One guy, who normally didn’t show emotion, had written, “Since you were taken ill, I’ve cried so, so many times. You wouldn’t believe.” He was their son-in-law. Another son-in-law wrote, “If I were to be born again and could pick someone to be my father, it would be you.”

These were beautiful sentiments; everyone was kind and welcoming, but I knew they hurt so much. It felt strange. My friend came with me because it was my first time, and she’s a photographer but also does video work.

They asked if I could find someone to video the service. I pointed them toward my friend, who gave them a good price and said she could be there for me. That was nice.

Jacobsen: Do people know that you will be reading their words beforehand?

Jackson: Yes. They usually ask. One person decided at the last minute that I would read her words, which was the right choice because it was very upsetting.

Jacobsen: So for people who know they’ve given you their words to speak on their behalf, do you think that gives them extra comfort in being more open about their sentiments?

Jackson: Yes, it does. It allows them to grieve properly because the service is about grief and the beginning of closure, the start of the process. It’s a very important part of that process, especially with a humanist funeral, where it’s a celebration of life, and there isn’t any prayer. Everything in the service is focused on the individual—the songs and the poems that remind people of them.

If someone is going to read, they might be worrying throughout the service, panicking: “Am I going to be in the right state to read this?” They can’t fully let their emotions flow. That’s why it’s good to have those speaking go early on. In our training, they said if there’s anyone younger, they should speak first, but that applies to anyone, no matter their age.

I started with the introduction, a forward, and thoughts on life and death. Then, his daughter spoke, and I took over from there.

Jacobsen: Have you encountered situations where someone started reading but needed you to finish speaking for them?

Jackson: That’s quite common, but I’ve only done one service so far, and she did it beautifully. She didn’t need any help.

Jacobsen: Outside of funeral services, what else is new? How’s family life? Are you still looking for humanistic or humanist schools in the UK?

Jackson: Yes. Being a mother is… well, I fail at many things, but being a mother comes naturally to me despite how I make life difficult for myself. I always take the long way around. And yes, being a mother was so easy for me. I had difficult pregnancies, but the birth was so easy—ridiculously easy. I didn’t need pain relief. Breastfeeding, on the other hand, was challenging.

But, yes, my instincts as a mother have always seemed right, and I’ve been so self-assured. In contrast, other mothers I know are always second-guessing themselves. I do second-guess myself sometimes, but it’s more about choosing between a range of options that could all be right. For example, what’s the appropriate punishment if my children are naughty? One school of thought says explaining what was wrong is better, but what punishments can you give?

At one point, my eldest stole some chocolate and ate it in bed, getting chocolate everywhere. So the punishment was that she didn’t get the cake or treat we had promised her. She accepted that. But I don’t punish them much. I’ve never gotten angry with them.

I’m lucky—they’re good kids. My eldest is six now, and she’s an angel. Everyone describes her as smiley and happy. She loves playing with friends and working hard. My partner passed me her homework, and she got excited to do it. My youngest just started school.

She’s quite sporty and a little cheekier than her sister but still well-behaved. They both have loads of energy and are very talkative, which they get from me. My worries about being a mother were tied to being an extrovert. I was concerned about how I would support them if they were introverts, especially when making friends. I’ve had shy friends, and while I know how to talk to them, I wasn’t sure how to guide them through that. I would tell them, “Go talk.” So I was worried that if I had a child very different from me, I wouldn’t know how to be the right support.

But they’re both extroverts, so that’s not an issue. They’re great and happy, and I love that part of motherhood.

Jacobsen: How’s it going with school? Are you still looking for humanist schools in the UK?

Jackson: School-wise, in my village, there are two schools. We need to be in the catchment area for both of them. My eldest first went to a school up the road, which was lovely. They weren’t holding acts of Christian worship, even though that’s required by law in the UK, which made me happy. Then she got into one of the schools in our village—one Christian, the other non-Christian, and she got into the non-Christian school. Now, both of my kids go there.

I find it fascinating that they have friends from almost every nationality and religion except Christianity. Because they attend a Christian school, they’re exposed to many different backgrounds. Both of them have close friends who are Hindu. They also have friends who are Muslim and Chinese. There are quite a few Spanish kids, too. Strangely, they don’t have any close Christian friends, but I’m not too worried about it.

The vicar comes into the school often, so they learn about Christianity, and they have a Christian grandma. It’s perfect because the best way to raise atheist children is to expose them to lots of religions.

Jacobsen: That’s right—an Isaac Asimov quote or paraphrase: “You become a Christian when someone reads the Bible to you. You become an atheist when you read the Bible yourself.”

A similar sentiment. So, how was that transition? From being mostly at home until they were four years old and then suddenly starting school—how did that go?

Jackson: You must detach a bit because they will be away for so long during the day. They both went to the nursery beforehand. The year before, Emma went to nursery on the school grounds, so we would all go to school together and pick up simultaneously. The entrance to her nursery is four meters away from the entrance to her current classroom.

The transition was easy for Emma. Most children struggle with energy when they start school and feel tired, but that hasn’t been the case for her. That’s because she knew so many of the children already. We’ve lived in this village her whole life, and she knew the children from nursery and the siblings of her older sister’s friends. She also knew the building and the school grounds, which greatly helped.

I put them in the nursery early because I wanted to return to work. Amy started at two and a half months old, but only for two short days a week. Then, I increased it to three short days and slowly made the days longer based on what I felt comfortable with. It didn’t feel like such a big change for me when they started school. And because they’re both extroverted and happy, I knew they wouldn’t be sitting at school crying. I knew they’d be making friends and having fun.

Jacobsen: What have you gained from your time in humanist leadership? You were part of the leadership of the largest youth humanist group in the world. You were involved in a progressive movement of humanists, atheists, and secularists. How do those experiences in your intellectual and professional history have helped your current life?

Jackson: That’s a good question. It may not have helped because those intellectual conversations aren’t ones you can have as a mother. With mom friends, your conversations don’t go deep because you have children around. It’s fascinating how friendships develop—you might go on 20 playdates with someone and spend 60 hours together, but still not know much about them. You’re wondering, “What makes them tick?” I know about their children but don’t get into deeper conversations with them.

Now that my children are a little older, my mom’s friends are starting to suggest going out for drinks, trying to build deeper friendships. But I still need to learn about some people’s philosophies and politics. We don’t have the chance to have those kinds of discussions. It’s a weird transition from being respected for your brain and sharing thoughts and ideas to helping each other with, “Who remembered to bring enough nappies?” or, “Who’s got the snacks?” I could improve at bringing snacks!

There’s much philosophy in child-rearing, too. I thought I would be a strict parent because I’m the type of person who schedules everything. I now realize I probably have ADHD, though I tend to over-schedule everything. I have a whiteboard here where I categorize tasks, and everything is planned. I never have a free moment, but that helps me avoid many issues others face. So, I schedule everything in my life. However, when it came to having children, I wasn’t into the idea of strict bedtimes, nap times, or schedules. Instead, I preferred to read the child—if they’re tired today, they get a long nap. If they’re full of energy, we’ll skip the nap or have it later.

If they’re tired, I think, “Maybe they’re getting sick; I’ll keep an eye on them.” If they’re wired, we’ll have a massive dance party instead of putting them to bed. I realize now that many of my parenting instincts align with how you deal with children who have ADHD. I instinctively think, “They have energy, so let’s burn it off,” instead of, “Let’s have a warm bath, massage them, and read some calming stories.” No—if they have energy, we’re running around first!

It ended up being more of an attachment parenting style. I thought I’d be the kind of parent who puts their child in their room early. The NHS recommends having the baby sleep in a cot next to you for six months and then move them to their room. Cosleeping in the UK is considered dangerous. The advice is basically, “If you want your child to die, you sleep.” I know the rest of the world cosleeps, but it’s seen as something only terrible parents do here.

I remember when my first baby wasn’t well, and I was so tired that I fell asleep with her in my bed. I felt so awful about it and told some moms at swimming, and they all said, “We all cosleep with our babies. It’s fine.” After that, I started doing it more, and it was fine because my eldest was a happy baby. But my second was born a week before the COVID lockdown, and she wasn’t well—she screamed constantly. No doctors would see her or even talk to me. She only slept, literally, with her head in my armpit, so I coslept with her.

I say “slept,” but you can’t sleep when you have a newborn in your armpit. Then her older sister realized her little sister was sleeping, so she also wanted to. I coslept with both of them for a year, which seems so hippie-like, but now I’m a massive advocate. I tell all new moms it’s completely fine to cosleep. I’m a deep sleeper, but you never roll on them because you know they’re there. The only people who have accidents are usually on drugs or alcohol.

I know someone who works at A&E, and she says it happens. But the rest of the world cosleeps with their children—why are English people so cruel and put their crying babies in a separate room?

I think being able to read research was helpful, too, especially when it came to breastfeeding. The phrase “breast is best” isn’t necessarily true. In the UK, for instance, the care can be quite patchy. I had stitches after giving birth, but once you’re discharged from the hospital, no one is willing to check them. Your doctor won’t look at them because they’re from the hospital, and the hospital won’t either. There’s been much news lately about the gaps in maternity care in the UK.

However, regarding breastfeeding, they’ll come to your house 24/7 if you need help. There are 24-hour helplines, and every baby group has a lactation specialist to assist you. It’s pushed so heavily—leaflet after leaflet and constant encouragement. But where is this money coming from? Why is there funding for breastfeeding and not for other areas?

Who benefits from this? The research only partially supports some of the claims they make. For instance, they say breastfeeding increases a child’s IQ. So, if I don’t breastfeed, does that mean I’m going to make my child less intelligent? When you look at socioeconomic groups, the women who breastfeed tend to have more money because they can afford to stay home and not return to work. So, a higher IQ is often linked to better financial situations, better resources, better diet, and better living conditions.

I’ve never found solid evidence to support many of the claims they make. I suspect breastfeeding advocacy keeps women at home because they say you should breastfeed exclusively for the first 12 months, especially for the first six months. However, only 1% of women in Britain breastfeed exclusively for six months. So, I wonder, which organizations—maybe religious ones—are behind this strong push to encourage women to stay home and breastfeed?

It’s also incredibly time-consuming. Early on, you’re feeding constantly—on, off, on again. They sleep, you change their nappy, and then they’re back on the breast. It takes a huge amount of time. I compare breastfeeding to running a 5-kilometre race—it tires you out, but you can keep going. However, you become completely exhausted when you do this for the sixth time in a day. It drains your energy, and you can’t eat enough calories to make up for it.

Anyway, that was a nice tangent! I’ll be mindful of time. 

Jacobsen: What has being a parent to two daughters taught you about humanism in practice?

Jackson: Oh, I’m not sure. 

Jacobsen: Or what has it taught you about human nature?

Jackson: Yes, I’ve been fascinated by their relationship and how, early on, they think about the other sibling first. For example, they’ll say, “I made this thing at school for my sister.” I have a brother, and we’re close, but the closeness between my daughters seems even stronger. It’s only during the school holidays when they spend a crazy amount of time together, that they start fighting. But for the most part, they get along well.

Although everything people say about boys also applies to my girls—everything becomes a weapon!

My girls were at dance class, and they were given ribbons. They immediately started hitting each other in the face with them, giggling the whole time. We went to a boys’ birthday party, and all the boys were wrestling on the floor. Even though they were much younger, my girls immediately joined in and started wrestling. So they’re rough-and-tumble girls, and I’ve gone with it. But people tend to buy them pink things and dolls rather than cars.

I’m the only one who’s ever bought them cars or Lego. Even when they get Lego, it’s unicorn Lego, not the regular kind. It’s fascinating, though—my eldest is choosing to be girly. She loves sparkly pink rainbow unicorns, while my youngest sometimes refuses to wear dresses. I don’t know—it’s interesting. They’re still little, and there’s still a lot more to learn about raising girls in today’s world.

Jacobsen: No, this is great! It’s a good catch-up story.

Jackson: Yes. I also do genealogy and running.

Jacobsen: You’ve got three minutes—go! What’s up with genealogy and running?

Jackson: Running is great for parents because it’s time-efficient. I love it for that reason. I’d go out in the morning while everyone was asleep. It’s a good way to feel healthy and gives me energy. For me, it’s also self-medicating for ADHD, though I didn’t realize it at the time. As a child, I used to run before school, and it was never about being fit, healthy, or thin—it was just something I did.

Genealogy is amazing. Everyone has a story. I found out my grandfather was adopted entirely through DNA testing. It’s fascinating. My extended family has many stories about people finding out they’re part of this huge network from DNA tests. They see the results and think, “I don’t even know half of these people.” It’s cool.

Jacobsen: Yes, that sounds interesting. Nicola, it was nice to catch up. I appreciate it.

Jackson: Yes, thank you! It was nice to catch up. Let’s keep in touch.

Footnotes

None

Citations

American Medical Association (AMA 11th Edition): Jacobsen S. Post-Conatus News Meander 3: Nicola Young Jackson. November 2024; 13(1). http://www.in-sightpublishing.com/conatus-news-3

American Psychological Association (APA 7th Edition): Jacobsen, S. (2024, December 1). Post-Conatus News Meander 3: Nicola Young Jackson’. In-Sight Publishing. 13(1).

Brazilian National Standards (ABNT): JACOBSEN, S. Post-Conatus News Meander 3: Nicola Young Jackson’. In-Sight: Independent Interview-Based Journal, Fort Langley, v. 13, n. 1, 2024.

Chicago/Turabian, Author-Date (17th Edition): Jacobsen, Scott. 2024. “Post-Conatus News Meander 3: Nicola Young Jackson’.” In-Sight: Independent Interview-Based Journal 13, no. 1 (Winter). http://www.in-sightpublishing.com/conatus-news-3.

Chicago/Turabian, Notes & Bibliography (17th Edition): Jacobsen, S. “Post-Conatus News Meander 3: Nicola Young Jackson.” In-Sight: Independent Interview-Based Journal 13, no. 1 (December 2024). http://www.in-sightpublishing.com/conatus-news-3.

Harvard: Jacobsen, S. (2024) ‘Post-Conatus News Meander 3: Nicola Young Jackson’, In-Sight: Independent Interview-Based Journal, 13(1). http://www.in-sightpublishing.com/conatus-news-3.

Harvard (Australian): Jacobsen, S 2024, ‘Post-Conatus News Meander 3: Nicola Young Jackson’, In-Sight: Independent Interview-Based Journal, vol. 13, no. 1, http://www.in-sightpublishing.com/conatus-news-3.

Modern Language Association (MLA, 9th Edition): Jacobsen, Scott. “Post-Conatus News Meander 3: Nicola Young Jackson.” In-Sight: Independent Interview-Based Journal, vo.13, no. 1, 2024, http://www.in-sightpublishing.com/conatus-news-3.

Vancouver/ICMJE: Jacobsen S. Post-Conatus News Meander 3: Nicola Young Jackson [Internet]. 2024 Dec; 13(1). Available from: http://www.in-sightpublishing.com/conatus-news-3.

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