Sym-path(y)-etic

For those people who don't know me well, albeit via blogland, or as an acquaintance, I have something to tell you that may colour your view of me. I don't do sympathy. I never have really been able to. So much so, that my mother has called me cold-hearted. (Actually she called me a cold-hearted bitch, but I am sure she meant that last bit in the most constructive of ways.) When I hear problems and woes, I just don't get that "thing" that makes people concerned and helpful and come out with the appropriate platitudes.

When Subtle is sick, and I mean really sick, the best I can do is come out with some suggestions for his return to health. Vomiting? Ok, well, you make sure you keep hydrated and I suggest some weak tea with sugar to provide some simple carbohydrates to keep some energy and nutrients in his body. Aching somewhere? Aspirin, Paracetamol, Neurofen, or a combination of all of the above perhaps.

See, not sympathetic. Just practical advice. And for God's sake, don't go on to me about things, because I will truly zone out.

Recently, one of my very good friends has been diagnosed with cancer. And I work in the cancer treatment industry, so it is a topic on which I can be truly helpful. I have been taking her many calls, as well as following up on her appointments, and talking her through the implications, treatment options, side-effects, and all manner of practicalities. Further, one of our mutual friends, also rings me seeking advice on the same sort of things, so that she can talk to our friend knowledgeably on all of the mentioned topics, and provide her with the necessary sympathy (which she does well).

So far - so good.

My friend is apparently absolutely thrilled with what I have been able to help her with, and my frank and pragmatic advice. I seem to be the calm voice of reason in the swirling storm of emotions and confusing quasi-facts that she has found on the internet. Laying things out for her matter-of-fact-ly has suited her very well and given her reassurance when needed. Also, apparently, due to my exposure of many years in the industry, I have some understanding of the psychology of the patients going through this disease and treatment.

The problem is now beginning to be that she feels so comfortable with my advice and pragmatic attitude, that she is starting to border on needing sympathy from me. We had a long conversation yesterday where we talked through her latest information on her treatment process, which all went well. I was satisfied with what she had been told by them, and what I had previously prepared her with. But then I could feel the conversation turning ever so slightly. I fear she may have wanted me to say something like, "There, there, everything will be ok." Which I can't do. I don't know if it will be. I want it to be all ok, but I can't give platitudes that I feel are full of empty sentiment.

When I can't *do* sympathy and all around me seem to be able to do it, I do wonder what happened in my upbringing, or in my head that makes me immune to it. I do sometimes feel that I may indeed be that cold-hearted person my mother alluded to. I had wondered if it was overuse by my mother of using guilt to garner a reaction, which made me this way. Or just a fluke. Subtle, thankfully for our progeny, does sympathy very well.

I won't even start to apologise for the time between posts. You will just nod and think, sure sure, and I will be grasping at straws.

I haven't blogged for a variety of reasons. Mostly due to not having anything to say. How is this possible you may ask? But, well, when the only things that have been going on in my head are baby/pregnancy related, I can well imagine that that topic will grow thin very quickly for many of you reading.

So here I am at 26 weeks pregnant. When I am sitting down, I look down, and feel like I am bloated after a big meal. But when I look in the mirror, oh god. There is definitely something going on down there. Subtle assures me that all looks well, and he just looks at my unchanging, lovely, visage. Sometimes a suck-up is appropriate. And appreciated.

I have various levels of stress going on at different times. Mostly, there is stress about well, this THING coming and what I shall do! Being responsible for it and all that. I do keep telling myself that far stupider people than me have raised healthy happy children, surely we can manage. Secondly there is stress over finances. With 12 weeks until arrival (I get the fun of going early), the money in the bank is starting to look like all their will be, and I am trying to work out how to manage paying all the bills, having some time off and not going insane. The latter looks like it might go down the list of priorities.

But the one thing that gives me stress, which shouldn't, is my mother. How do you deal with a mother who is projecting her wants from her own birthing experiences onto me? Plus add in the fact that my mother does have a plethora of issues, prior to this pregnancy. My mother has been waiting since, oh, my first period at the age of 12, for a grandchild. 27 years. And boy, don't I feel that pressure. She would like to be in the birthing suite, and views getting to see the baby any more than 15 mins after its arrival, as being their "too late". But she asks about when "I" would like her there, and then ignores my requests. I could perhaps say, "Sure, you can be there", and then have Subtle and the nursing staff restrict her access. Then at least I wouldn't be the bad guy?

We are off tonight to visit my family and friends interstate, so I daresay there will be more venting over the weekend that the ever patient Subtle will have to wade through. Until later, I will provide reports and casualty counts from the weekend.