By Connie K. Pombo
"Have you seen the wedding list?" I asked my husband.
"Have you seen the wedding list?" I asked my husband.
"Nope... haven't seen it," Mark answered.
As I shuffled through the stack of papers on the kitchen table, my elbow brushed against the "Have a Nice Day" mug, spilling the creamy mocha concoction onto the newly cleaned carpet. Too paralyzed to breathe, I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, followed by another and another, until they fell beneath my hands onto the pile of bills and receipts.
It was too much! Our son was getting married in three weeks; we had out-of-town guests who needed a place to stay; and we were selling our house, and packing up thirty-five years of marriage in preparation for a move to Cuenca, Ecuador — our retirement destination!
While I sat with my head in my hands, the phone rang beside me. "Yeah, what do you want?" I answered, without thinking.
"It's Kathy — your best friend — remember me?" came the reply. "Are you okay? You sound like you're having a crummy day."
It had been weeks since I heard the voice of my dear friend and I could tell she was genuinely concerned.
Kathy and I hadn't connected in weeks and she was calling to cheer me up.
"I'm sorry, but it's just so overwhelming," I blubbered. "There's so much to do and not enough time!" As I shared my fears about our house not selling, out-of-town guests arriving with no place to stay, and a house littered with boxes for an overseas move, I heard Kathy exhale a sigh.
"Whoa, girl... you need to take a deep breath!" she said. "Would you like to meet for lunch? I have time this week. I can even meet you halfway."
Before I had a chance to respond, Kathy reminded me to practice breathing. "Hee-hee-huu... shallow breaths and blow," she prompted. "I'm a Lamaze instructor — remember?"
"How could I forget?" I blurted into the phone. "But I'm not having a baby!"
"No, but you're losing one," Kathy replied softly.
A lump formed in my throat when I realized that not only were we moving to another continent, but our baby was getting married. As soon as I placed the phone in its cradle, I realized that breathing is how I made it through labor. It helped me focus on something other than the pain. And just maybe it could help with a wedding and a move!
Hee-hee-huu, I practiced. "Breathe in energy... exhale stress," I told myself. "Shallow breaths and blow!"
Over the next couple of days, I practiced breathing while I packed up boxes, prepared for a wedding shower, and "labored" through thirty-five years of memories. Night after night, I stayed up until 3:00 a.m., scanning important documents, family photos, and memorabilia, but I didn't feel stressed. The breathing exercises were working!
I started to feel slightly better on the third day when I could actually breathe in deeply without clutching my chest for more air. The wedding plans were going smoothly and we finally had an offer on our home that we could both live with. It looked like we were going to have a wedding and a move to Ecuador after all. As I started to take in a cleansing breath, the phone rang.
"I have good news and bad news," announced the realtor. "The new owners want to move in and settle over the Memorial Day weekend!"
"They want what?" I protested. "I mean they can't. That's the wedding weekend!" I shouted into the phone. "I have guests coming from California and they need a place to stay. It's simply not going to work out."
Our realtor stood firm. "The new owners need to settle by the end of the month and it's in your best interest to do so," she said.
After the phone call, I knew what to do. Hee-hee-huu, I practiced. "Breathe in energy... exhale stress," I told myself. "Shallow breaths and blow!"
Over the next several weeks, I had more opportunities to practice my Lamaze, including when I found out the box labeled "wedding" accidently got sent to the incinerator instead of the church. But all was forgiven when the bride and groom danced up the aisle for the first time as husband and wife. When it came time for the mother-groom dance — I breathed through that too, making sure I didn't hyperventilate during the four minutes and thirty seconds of our song. The wedding was a success and so was the move.
It's been over a year since the kids said "I do" and we arrived at our retirement destination in Ecuador, the land of "eternal springtime" and siempre mañana (always tomorrow). I rarely have to use my Lamaze breathing anymore, except for the other day when a taxista (taxi driver) slammed on his brakes for a pack of llamas crossing the street. As we slid into the intersection, my husband grabbed my arm and whispered in my ear, "Just breathe!"
As I shuffled through the stack of papers on the kitchen table, my elbow brushed against the "Have a Nice Day" mug, spilling the creamy mocha concoction onto the newly cleaned carpet. Too paralyzed to breathe, I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, followed by another and another, until they fell beneath my hands onto the pile of bills and receipts.
It was too much! Our son was getting married in three weeks; we had out-of-town guests who needed a place to stay; and we were selling our house, and packing up thirty-five years of marriage in preparation for a move to Cuenca, Ecuador — our retirement destination!
While I sat with my head in my hands, the phone rang beside me. "Yeah, what do you want?" I answered, without thinking.
"It's Kathy — your best friend — remember me?" came the reply. "Are you okay? You sound like you're having a crummy day."
It had been weeks since I heard the voice of my dear friend and I could tell she was genuinely concerned.
Kathy and I hadn't connected in weeks and she was calling to cheer me up.
"I'm sorry, but it's just so overwhelming," I blubbered. "There's so much to do and not enough time!" As I shared my fears about our house not selling, out-of-town guests arriving with no place to stay, and a house littered with boxes for an overseas move, I heard Kathy exhale a sigh.
"Whoa, girl... you need to take a deep breath!" she said. "Would you like to meet for lunch? I have time this week. I can even meet you halfway."
Before I had a chance to respond, Kathy reminded me to practice breathing. "Hee-hee-huu... shallow breaths and blow," she prompted. "I'm a Lamaze instructor — remember?"
"How could I forget?" I blurted into the phone. "But I'm not having a baby!"
"No, but you're losing one," Kathy replied softly.
A lump formed in my throat when I realized that not only were we moving to another continent, but our baby was getting married. As soon as I placed the phone in its cradle, I realized that breathing is how I made it through labor. It helped me focus on something other than the pain. And just maybe it could help with a wedding and a move!
Hee-hee-huu, I practiced. "Breathe in energy... exhale stress," I told myself. "Shallow breaths and blow!"
Over the next couple of days, I practiced breathing while I packed up boxes, prepared for a wedding shower, and "labored" through thirty-five years of memories. Night after night, I stayed up until 3:00 a.m., scanning important documents, family photos, and memorabilia, but I didn't feel stressed. The breathing exercises were working!
I started to feel slightly better on the third day when I could actually breathe in deeply without clutching my chest for more air. The wedding plans were going smoothly and we finally had an offer on our home that we could both live with. It looked like we were going to have a wedding and a move to Ecuador after all. As I started to take in a cleansing breath, the phone rang.
"I have good news and bad news," announced the realtor. "The new owners want to move in and settle over the Memorial Day weekend!"
"They want what?" I protested. "I mean they can't. That's the wedding weekend!" I shouted into the phone. "I have guests coming from California and they need a place to stay. It's simply not going to work out."
Our realtor stood firm. "The new owners need to settle by the end of the month and it's in your best interest to do so," she said.
After the phone call, I knew what to do. Hee-hee-huu, I practiced. "Breathe in energy... exhale stress," I told myself. "Shallow breaths and blow!"
Over the next several weeks, I had more opportunities to practice my Lamaze, including when I found out the box labeled "wedding" accidently got sent to the incinerator instead of the church. But all was forgiven when the bride and groom danced up the aisle for the first time as husband and wife. When it came time for the mother-groom dance — I breathed through that too, making sure I didn't hyperventilate during the four minutes and thirty seconds of our song. The wedding was a success and so was the move.
It's been over a year since the kids said "I do" and we arrived at our retirement destination in Ecuador, the land of "eternal springtime" and siempre mañana (always tomorrow). I rarely have to use my Lamaze breathing anymore, except for the other day when a taxista (taxi driver) slammed on his brakes for a pack of llamas crossing the street. As we slid into the intersection, my husband grabbed my arm and whispered in my ear, "Just breathe!"
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