Just Myrto by Laurie Gray Page A

the patient’s environment and to listen closely to all family history. Theano even recommended measuring a patient’s pulse as she talks to discern when she is lying. There were instructions on using pessaries of lemon, pomegranate, figand even sea sponges to preserve the honor of a mistress and prevent the birth of a child.
    In the end, Lamprocles did much more reading, and I did much more listening. He devoured the book with voracious appetite while I quietly opened my heart to its meaning. The text answered question after question I’d never thought to ask, and when that first day was done, we had not even begun to learn about childbirth itself. We did, however, make a pact to memorize, recite and keep the oath that Theano required for all midwives:
    â€œI swear by Apollo, Asclepius, Hygeia, Panacea and Iaso to keep according to my ability the following oath: I will consider dear to me as my parents she who taught me the art of midwifery. I will look upon her children as my own sisters and teach them this art.”
    â€œI will never do harm to anyone, but will act for the good of my patients according to my ability and judgment. I will preserve the purity of my life and art.”
    â€œIn every house where I come, I will enter only for the good of my patient, keeping myself far from all intentional ill-doing and all seduction. All that may come to my knowledge through the exercise of midwifery which ought not to be spread abroad, I will keep secret and never reveal.”
    â€œI will keep this oath faithfully so that I may enjoy my life and the practice of my art, respected by all for all times.”
    As we descended from the Hill of Muses, I breathed in the cleansing odor of pines. Lamprocles and I were not merely stepson and stepmother or simply fellow students in the art of midwifery. We had sworn an oath that would forever bind us together as brother and sister in the eyes of Apollo and Artemis.

17
    W E RETURNED TO the Hill of Muses day after day to study midwifery. The earth awakened from her slumber, and winter’s cool dampness faded away. As our studies moved from general health into graphic details of labor and childbirth, Lamprocles insisted that we discuss every sentence in depth. At times we would spend an hour on the meaning of one word. There are countless ways for things to go wrong during the actual birthing; I died a thousand deaths in my heart as we read about each one of them.
    Some parts were comforting, however. For example, the midwife should ask the woman what she believes will help. “Do not argue with her or attempt to dissuade her. Always acknowledge her requests and address her concerns. It is more important that she believes you are doing as she asks than to actually do it, especially when the requested treatment would be particularly odorous, bloody or dirty.”
    This idea appealed to me. “What do you suppose she means by that?” I interrupted as Lamprocles read.
    â€œHold on, she’s going to tell us,” he replied impatiently and continued reading. “There is no value to using earthworms, powdered sow’s dung, canine placentas, newborn goat membranes orspider webs during labor and delivery. It is better to keep the birthing area clean.”
    â€œThank you, Hygeia!” I said, leaning over Lamprocles shoulder to read this wonderful passage with my own eyes.
    Lamprocles laughed. “Yes,” he agreed. “We should give thanks to the goddess of cleanliness!”
    Gradually each new fear subsided more quickly until my entire well of fears ran dry. I began to enjoy our discussions again. I would not be at the mercy of an inexpert midwife and her foul treatments. I had choices. I could kneel or stand or squat on my heels or sit in a birthing chair, whatever felt most comfortable to me. Socrates would surely honor my wishes.
    â€œDo you suppose Socrates still has Phaenarete’s birthing chair?” I asked.
    â€œI