Imagine being the second in command, the other-wife substitute, the baby-making machine for someone who’s supposed to be the father of many nations. Imagine again the elevations of your status when you are able to bare a boy-child for your master–a boy-child wo really was the most coveted gift a woman could give her husband–a future, a hope and a way of continuing the family line. This is what Hagar was able to grant for Abraham—the proported father of many nations, a man promised descendents like the sand.
Imagine, then, when your head-momma status in then usurped by a screaming, flailing little baby named Isaac. Uh-oh, things from her perspective aren’t looking particularly good—and they go from bad to worse when Isaac baby is weaned three years later. There is some name-calling, some poking fun of and then, quicker than you can say gone, she was. There was selfishness and jealousy