I had not yet had a child of my own when Senusret son of Ra appointed me as a nurse in his household. I studied under the slave woman Kissa, who was renowned for her assistance in all matters of childbirth and female anatomy.
She taught me how to mix laserwort and white stone powder with honey, or acacia leaves with date paste, that a woman might avoid pregnancy. Or to have her squat over steaming beer, and, if available, frankincense and myrrh, in order to become more fertile.
She taught me how a woman should urinate on emmer and barley seeds. If the barley seeds sprout, she is pregnant with a boy, or if emmer, a girl. But if they do not sprout she is not pregnant.
She taught me how to use sea salt and rushes to induce childbirth, or how to use the leaves of kheper-wer and milk to delay it.
But most importantly, she taught me how one may invoke Horus to assist with the birth. One must chant over a golden Bes amulet four times: “Come down, placenta, come down! I am Horus! Come down!”
In a manner like this we invoke many gods. Hathor, that she may watch over the mother and grant her domestic bliss. Taweret, the blessed pregnant hippopotamus, that the delivery may go well and that the mother’s milk may be plentiful. Meskhenet, that the mother may be brave and strong and that the birthing stones may support her. Thoth that the delivery might not stall, and Amun that he might blow a cool northern breeze to ease the mother’s pain.
Kissa was under Bastet and I under Kissa, so that when Sarai acquired Bastet, she acquired me as well. Kissa was too old to leave the palace. I do miss her gentle eyes and her soft hands and her powerful prayers to Taweret.
Bastet, however, who is now called Hagar, would not have me call on the Egyptian gods but only on El Elyon. It was an awkward task to chant the sacred spells to the one Canaanite God rather than many Egyptian ones, and at times the rhythm or the rhyme of the songs was less than perfect as a result. But I did my best, and secretly whispered under my breath a few pleas for mercy and protection from the gods of our mother Egypt as well.
Bastet bore a beautiful baby boy, and Abram called his son's name Ishmael. Even though I am no good with the language of the Apiru, I knew what this name meant: God hears.
Sarai was nowhere to be found that night, but in the morning she came in quickly to the mother’s tent and took the child away. Bastet was beside herself with sorrow at the emptiness of her arms. But without expression or explanation Sarai returned again not two hours later and gave the child back to his mother, leaving promptly.
She taught me how to mix laserwort and white stone powder with honey, or acacia leaves with date paste, that a woman might avoid pregnancy. Or to have her squat over steaming beer, and, if available, frankincense and myrrh, in order to become more fertile.
She taught me how a woman should urinate on emmer and barley seeds. If the barley seeds sprout, she is pregnant with a boy, or if emmer, a girl. But if they do not sprout she is not pregnant.
She taught me how to use sea salt and rushes to induce childbirth, or how to use the leaves of kheper-wer and milk to delay it.
But most importantly, she taught me how one may invoke Horus to assist with the birth. One must chant over a golden Bes amulet four times: “Come down, placenta, come down! I am Horus! Come down!”
In a manner like this we invoke many gods. Hathor, that she may watch over the mother and grant her domestic bliss. Taweret, the blessed pregnant hippopotamus, that the delivery may go well and that the mother’s milk may be plentiful. Meskhenet, that the mother may be brave and strong and that the birthing stones may support her. Thoth that the delivery might not stall, and Amun that he might blow a cool northern breeze to ease the mother’s pain.
Kissa was under Bastet and I under Kissa, so that when Sarai acquired Bastet, she acquired me as well. Kissa was too old to leave the palace. I do miss her gentle eyes and her soft hands and her powerful prayers to Taweret.
Bastet, however, who is now called Hagar, would not have me call on the Egyptian gods but only on El Elyon. It was an awkward task to chant the sacred spells to the one Canaanite God rather than many Egyptian ones, and at times the rhythm or the rhyme of the songs was less than perfect as a result. But I did my best, and secretly whispered under my breath a few pleas for mercy and protection from the gods of our mother Egypt as well.
Bastet bore a beautiful baby boy, and Abram called his son's name Ishmael. Even though I am no good with the language of the Apiru, I knew what this name meant: God hears.
Sarai was nowhere to be found that night, but in the morning she came in quickly to the mother’s tent and took the child away. Bastet was beside herself with sorrow at the emptiness of her arms. But without expression or explanation Sarai returned again not two hours later and gave the child back to his mother, leaving promptly.