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Drumming
For A New Life
By
Chuck Cogliandro
The cell phone woke me out of a sound sleep at 2 a.m., but it wasn't
unexpected. “Chuck, it's Angela. The contractions are about
five minutes apart, so we're heading to the hospital.” I told
her I would be right there. I turned on the light, sat on the edge of
the bed to clear my head, and began taking in the excitement and full
significance of the experience into which I had been drawn.
I am a drummer and healer, and Angela is a good friend and former member
of one of my drum groups. Another friend of mine, Ed Haggard, had drummed
at a birth and shared a written account of it, and I had been inspired
by it. I have always loved drumming for ritual, but this was a much
deeper level to which I was being called. In 2003 I had begun studies
at the Barbara Brennan School of Healing, making a more profound connection
to my purpose to drum for ceremonies as a dynamic link between the physical
and spiritual realms. At some point early in 2004 I set my intention
to drum for births, and began to send this message out to the universe.
When Angela contacted me in the spring to let me know she was due with
another child in June, I offered to drum for the birth. She said she
would think about it, and about a week later she said yes, she would
like me to be there. She had played one of T.H.E.'s drumming CDs
at her previous births, and it had helped her relax, so she thought
the live drumming would also be helpful.
I had drummed at Angela and Chris's wedding service in 1999, and
one of the drumming groups I led, the T.H.E. Percussion Choir, had played
at the reception. Angela had been a member of T.H.E. and performed many
times with the group. It was a bit of a risk for her to have African
drumming at her reception; her family was from Iowa and fairly conservative,
and Chris's friends and family were from Long Island, NY. But Angela
loved drumming so much that she wanted us there, and it turned out to
be a perfect way to bridge the cultural differences between the families
and bring everyone together. I'll never forget the sight of Angela
drumming with us in her full bridal gown and veil!
I stayed in touch with Angela leading up to her due date, which was
June 19th. She had delivered a week past the due date with her first
two children, so around June 15th I began to get really excited. I packed
a drum bag and had it ready to go. I could not remember being so strongly
drawn to do something! I also began to sit in meditation to connect
with the child coming in, and to help prepare the way for a healthy
and easy entry at the birth. I was feeling it was a boy, as were both
parents. Angela and I talked on June 23rd. She had been up that night
with her first real contractions, but little was happening that day.
I had been feeling that the baby would come on June 24th, and was really
hoping for that date – which was my birthday!
I was drumming for a solstice dance the evening of the 23rd, and was
in a panic when I arrived at the dance as I forgot to bring my cell
phone. I called her before the dance started. She felt nothing would
be happening until she laid down that night to sleep. One of the memorable
parts of the ceremony was when the dance leader created a segment of
the dance specifically to honor the baby coming in. Sure enough, that
night was when the call came. I was on the road in minutes and met the
parents at Northside Hospital in Atlanta. I was so awake and present,
and prepared to serve in any way I could. Angela and I had talked just
a little about the process, and we both didn't really know what
to expect.
I told Angela that she may not like the drumming once the birth process
was actually underway, and if so to please tell me. I was prepared to
do nothing at all. She joked and said she might tell Chris to tell me
if the drumming was bothering her – she was so considerate that
she was concerned about my feelings! I had with me a djembe, a frame
drum, an ocean drum, and an assortment of shakers. She said she felt
like some of the watery sounds of the ocean drum might help her relax
during the contractions. I got all my instruments out and began some
soft, grounding play on the frame drum, which she and Chris both said
was very relaxing. A fetal monitor attached to Angela's belly beeped
out the baby's quick heartbeat into the room, and I fell into an
easy groove playing along with it. At that point I felt the sacred energy
of my purpose come around me and hold me, and it felt like the adventure
had really begun.
Angela's contractions were irregular at this time. She had one walking
from the registration desk to the room; once in the room, the contractions
were coming anywhere from 5-15 minutes apart. Chris got very tired and
laid down on the long padded bench back in the room, and I kept drumming
and talking to Angela. After a while I stopped and just played the ocean
drum when the contractions came. She would wince and grab the bed frame
and breathe through it, and I breathed with her. Having never been at
a birth before, I only had movies and my imagination to create my expectations.
I was struck by how, in a different context, the gasps and moans of
the mother might be heard as cries of ecstasy; and then I also realized
how both experiences are such close contacts with the divine, perhaps
as close as we can come to direct contact with the spirit world.
Angela worked with me to tell me what she wanted and liked in the drumming
sounds and intensity, and what she hated. Sometimes she just played
CDs she brought; sometimes she asked me to drum with the CDs, and sometimes
I played frame drum or djembe. At one point she was feeling sleepy and
wanted to wake up, and I played my djembe, and she played shakers along
with me to get energized. I played djembe rhythms she remembered from
when she was in the group. I also made trips down the hall for ice chips,
pillows or warm blankets. Throughout the night, as best I could, I regulated
my energy field and stayed grounded to provide a stable and calming
presence in the room, and kept connecting to the energy of the child.
The medical staff were very friendly and competent, and having probably
seen everything in the birthing room, were mildly interested in the
drumming for one or two questions and then went about their business.
Chris only slept for about an hour, and when he woke up he was pretty
rested and ready for the most intense phases of the labor. Angela had
taken an epidural for the first two births, and really wanted to go
without for this one. Having committed to that, she consequently experienced
much more intense pain in the contractions. Around dawn Chris's
job became much more important. Angela needed his support in the contractions,
and he was right on the bed with her, putting his arm around her, allowing
her to lean into him and grab his arm, and really coaching her and helping
her breathe through the pains. The way the father and mother worked
together during the contractions was a most loving and inspiring thing
– a beautiful and powerful balance of masculine yang strength and
feminine yin – vulnerability creating a life together. Chris was
there to supply that support for Angela in just the way she needed.
He later told me that all the work he did came as a complete surprise,
as the first two births had been so much easier for them.
I didn't know Chris as well as I knew Angela, just because I had
spent more time in drum groups with her. I did have a strong memory
of a connection Chris and I had made at the wedding, just a few minutes
before the service, when I bumped into Chris waiting at the back of
the church. He was pretty anxious, and I sat and talked with him, mostly
just listening, and provided some reassurance that things were going
to go well for the two of them. He shared some pretty personal things,
and I was honored that I could be a support for him at that powerful
time.
At about 11 a.m., after a long and exhausting night, things started
to shift and the birth was near. When it got really close and the team
of people came in it got very loud and chaotic, and I moved off to one
side and softly played my frame drum and really held a grounded and
loving space into which the baby could enter. I felt a little like an
airport runway worker with the orange glowlights guiding a tiny, delicate
plane into a safe landing. The room was loud and crazy with five voices
all coaching Angela at once. It was hard for me to take all the shouting,
knowing Angela was about as exhausted as she could be. (She later told
me she really would have preferred to hear the djembe playing full blast
right at that moment, rather than all the shouting, and wished she had
asked me for that!) I played a very soft, very steady and repetitive
rhythm onthe frame drum in that stage and for the first fifteen minutes
after new baby girl Patricia arrived, and sang to her and told her she
was loved and valued and wanted, and that she would be safe here. I
burst into tears when the baby's first cry hit the room, and stayed
rock steady in my intention and playing.
After all but one of the medical staff had left, and Patricia was all
cleaned up and lying on the warming table, I went to her and repeated
all the messages of welcome I had sung to her. This was such a healing
experience for me, to say everything I hope we all could hear when we
make that frightening entry into the physical world; and to be present
when that illusory veil between the worlds is dropped for a few incredible
moments.
Chuck
Cogliandro is the director of Kumandi Drum & Healing, a professional
musician and the maker of West African-style percussion instruments.
Contact him at 404-577-6842 or mkdrum@mindspring.com.
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