Favourite Posts of 2011

Well, I didn't write as much as I would have liked this year. There is so much I want to research, share and say, and too many unfinished posts. Having a baby has been a great journey, and I love being a secular parent. That doesn't seem to mean much at this stage of the game, but I've had a fun time connecting with secular parents through an incredible large, private group of women from around the world on facebook and immersing myself in reading the blogs listed to the right and learning more about secularism and society from some of my favourite bloggers.

My voice on issues of atheism and secularism is still small and a little tentative, I am quite proud of a few pieces I've written this year. I hope to create this space as a place to use this type of voice more often.

When reviewing my readership statistics for the past year, I was so pleased to find so many hits for
Grief and Atheism.  I poured my heart this piece because it speaks to the humanity we all share, regardless of our beliefs. Believers in god(s) sometimes have the mistaken notion that athiests either don't care about death or devastate us more than themselves because athiests do not have the comfort of religion or god. I haven't found that to be true. I hope that those who read this post were comforted, felt supported, or felt like they understood that athiests do ascribe just as much meaning to their lives and the lives of their loved ones as most folks do - it just might look different.

I had a lot of fun writing The Dilemna of Santa. I think that this is mostly just a dilemma for me although there were some pretty heated discussions about this in the facebook group I mentioned earlier. I tend to overanalyze things too much. My mom thought I was crazy when I started entertaining the notion of "not doing Santa" and what some of my reasons were. This post only sums up my own conclusions of what was actually a very difficult decision-making process where I weighed many of the pros and cons. At the end of the day though, I don't think there is only one answer on this issue.

The Problem with Pretending to Know the Future and Science Doesn't Require Faith! were mostly rants about religious behaviours that annoy me, but I hope to find the courage to approach topics like these more often. I find it difficult to address such topics in a way that expresses my feelings and thoughts in a way that is respectful of religious individuals without offering undue respect to religious beliefs that are not worthy of respect. To be clear, I support freedom of conscious and freedom of belief.  I just do not support the idea that religious beliefs shouldn't be challenged if it is being held out as some of sort universal truth. Religious beliefs, like all ideologies, if promoted as The Truth, should stand up to criticism, testing, and debate in the marketplace of ideas.

And finally, in light of the recent Reddit misongyny event, my post early in the year on Judge shows that Feminism has a way to go yet shows that misongyny still holds a place in even the courts of Canada. It's a pervasive problem in society and needs scrutiny and discussion no matter where it happens - without changing the subject.

I hope to become a stronger voice in 2012; but in the meantime, I'm glad to have gotten my feet wet in 2011.

PS. I didn't forget the cute baby posts.

Grief and Atheism

Sorrow

I have experienced grief on both sides of faith. On one hand I can totally understand the comfort faith in an afterlife can be; but on the other hand, there is an equally comforting belief that there is none. We are born, we live, and we die as part of a process that has no director, no meaning but that which we give it, and that death and disease is just a part of life.

I have lost people dear to me both when I was fully convinced there was a God and an afterlife and now that am fully convinced of the opposite (no God, no afterlife). I have actually found grief to be more straightforward now. People die, can die at any time, and there is no reason for it except that it happens to everyone. I can be sad and I can rejoice in my memories of the people I love who are gone. I don't have to wonder where they are; if they were "good enough" to be in a better place; if they are watching over me. They are in my heart and in my memories - and when I miss them, that is where I will find them - always.

As an athiest, I no longer feel the need to reconcile with God when I lose someone. I don't question why young mothers are taken from their families who need them so badly - I no longer have to make sense of why God would take them, when it seems so unnecessary and God presumably has a reason for doing so. I don't have to wonder why God wouldn't step in and save someone from a crippling depression that caused her to take her own life. These things just happen and they are sad.

After I left faith in God behind me, I often wondered if perhaps I would miss it in hard times. If I would wish faith back into my heart when I experienced pain, loneliness, or grief. When I finally experienced grief as an atheist, I was surprised to find that my lack of faith was actually a relief. I no longer have to try to understand why a supposedly loving God would let bad things happen to good people. I don't have to assume "He" has his reasons. Now, I can just accept that bad things happen, without reason, and be grateful for the people who touch my life, for the love that we shared, and be sad without feeling guilty for wishing they were still here, instead of some kind of paradise.

As an atheist/agnostic, I find death and grief more straightforward now. All I need to deal with are my own feelings and the feelings of those around me. My comfort is my memories and the hugs and community of those who also loved the people I've lost. I no longer feel the need to understand tragedy, but have just accepted it as a part of life. I find my heart comes to peace easier as an atheist than it ever did as a believer.

Last night, I read a blog post that a friend of mine linked to on facebook. It was written by Derek K. Miller who died of cancer. He intended for this to be posted on his blog when he died. He was diagnosed with cancer in 2007.

He was an atheist and wanted to leave some final thoughts regarding his beliefs and love for his family and life. I found it very moving, courageous, and poetic.

It turns out that no one can imagine what's really coming in our lives. We can plan, and do what we enjoy, but we can't expect our plans to work out. Some of them might, while most probably won't. Inventions and ideas will appear, and events will occur, that we could never foresee. That's neither bad nor good, but it is real.

I think and hope that's what my daughters can take from my disease and death. And that my wonderful, amazing wife Airdrie can see too. Not that they could die any day, but that they should pursue what they enjoy, and what stimulates their minds, as much as possible—so they can be ready for opportunities, as well as not disappointed when things go sideways, as they inevitably do.

Anyway, I thought it was beautiful. He obviously lived life believing it was his only shot, found love, enjoyed family and friends, and pursued his dreams and goals. And then he faced disease and death without fear or even hope for more.

What I found even more interesting though is the comments section of this post. As we all know, those who believe in a god vastly outnumber those who do not. Some of them loved and knew Derek, or just read his blog. Many people expressed their condolences, but also added their own hopes and beliefs that Derek perhaps discovered he was wrong, having now "arrived" on the other side. Inevitably, those who share Derek's beliefs were offended on his behalf, finding it disrespectful for Christian to now imposes their beliefs on Derek's experience, his goodbye, his final words. I think its too bad that a feud is now tarnishing Derek's final goodbye.

Some say there are no atheists in foxholes; Derek is just one example that they do indeed exist.

Remembering a Loss

So...life doesn't always go as planned. Surprise, surprise right?

Nothing makes us realize this more than experiencing an unexpected loss. Last year, I experienced a loss that I wasn't expecting - it was a pregnancy loss - an early one - but a loss all the same. Just a few weeks after celebrating becoming pregnant, I had an early miscarriage. I never thought it would happen to me - even though the odds of it happening to anyone are basically a 1 in 4 shot. Think about that for a second - miscarriages are so common that they happen in 1 in 4 pregnancies - not to 1 in 4 women - but in 1 of 4 pregnancies. And yet, we hear about them so little. I missed National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day earlier this month, but today is my own remembrance day.

One year ago, I lost my first pregnancy. I was devastated, and rightfully so. I have always wanted to have children, and I was sooooooooo excited to be pregnant. However, once I got through the first week of tears and sadness, I started trying to feel better and tried to take comfort in the fact that I would still have children one day. I would still experience moments of sadness, sometimes very unexpectedly, but I thought I was handling things fine and was "getting over it". About three months later, after a couple of bad days, unexplained tears, and what I wanted to chalk up to hormonal issues, I called the number of a Pregnancy Bereavement Counsellor to see if I was "normal". It was honestly one of the best things I have ever done.

So I went to speak with a woman at the hospital about how these unexpected feelings kept creeping up on me and surprising me at inopportune moments. I explained that every time I thought I was "done" mourning my loss, a few days later a new wave of grief or anger would sweep over me - even when I wasn't thinking about the pregnancy or anything baby-related. The counsellor explained to me that because we live in a relatively healthy culture and have just long life-expectancies that many people do not experience loss very often and are very unfamiliar is the impact that grief and loss can have on them over the long term. This is even more true of pregnancy loss because the loss is more ambiguous than the death of someone we have already met and loved - like a mother, father, grandfather, etc. Also, when people in our lives die, we have rituals and ceremonies to share our grief as part of a community. Families who experience early pregnancy loss often don't have these and are left to grieve without the comforts of ritual, ceremony, and community - unless they create their own.

My experience is that mourning doesn't have a beginning and an ending, we never really forget the people who leave us, but the separation does become less painful with time, and eventually we can forget the pain and just remember the joy that person brought to our lives. Once I realized that I might never be "done" greiving my lost pregnancy and I wouldn't "just get over it", I didn't get as many unexpected attacks of grief or anger. When my mind or heart wanders across the memory of my first pregnancy,  I welcome whatever feelings are still there - they honour the excitement and attachment I had towards impending motherhood, but they also honour that I loved that developing embryo and all the hope and excitement it provided me - if only for a short time. And although I am excited about the impending arrival of my first child - hopefully the result of a successful/happy completion of my second pregnancy in just a few weeks, I will always remember the dream that was created and dashed with my first. My first pregnancy experience has left a mark on my heart and soul - one I will always remember.

If you have experienced a pregnancy loss and need help coping with your loss, please check with your local hospital to see if they can refer you to someone to talk to - it helped me immensely.

If you know someone who has recently experienced a pregnancy loss - here are a few helpful tips for how to help.

• Let the greiving mom express her feelings without comment and without trying to make her feel better. A shoulder to cry on, a hug, or a ear to vent into is all she needs.
• Say you are sorry for their loss - and leave it at that.
• Do not say any of the following - however well-intentioned - they are tough to hear:

"You can always try again." - Many women can go on to try again after a miscarriage, and indeed many find comfort in that idea after time. However, for someone grieving a recent loss, one baby does not replace another. Each loss needs to be dealt with individually and the woman needs to think about trying again on her own time when she is ready.

"You wouldn't want a deformed or disabled baby anyway" or "It was for the best"  - Never speculate that a miscarriage was for the best. Many women feel that they would have wanted their baby no matter what. After all, when a deformed or disabled child is born, no one says “boy, I bet you wished you had miscarried.”

"Everything will be fine next time." - Everyone hopes that everything will be fine in the next pregnancy, but sometimes it isn't. And no one can predict who will go on to have recurrent miscarriages. Plus, you cannot stop a women from worrying that it will happen again, even when she does concieve again. I know that even at 36 weeks pregnant, I am still worried something will go wrong.

"It happened because _______." - Please avoid speculating over what caused the miscarriage. No one really knows. Unless the woman pursues medical testing, which usually happens only after recurrent miscarriages, no one can say what caused the loss. And often, regardless of the reason, it doesn’t matter because the loss has already happened and we can’t change the past.