It's a Boy!

I realize my rate of publishing is rather sluggish, so instead of trying to finish putting my new ideas down, here's another doodle from a few years ago.  No, I wasn't depressed at the time; I was just channeling the emotion.

"It's a boy," said the doctor, but meant a great deal more. On a very superficial level, he meant, "Your baby is healthy enough that the only thing worth mentioning is his sex, and you can rest now. Excellent job."
"It's a boy," he said, probably happy for the new mother. Perhaps he was also a bit disappointed. That depends on his view about whether or not sons or daughters or neither or either is preferable, but he meant something by it, whether he thinks so or not.
"It's a boy," he said. Here is a new person. A complete human being: fresh, untarnished, unprejudiced, perfect. Just like you and me, but without any history of mistakes and wrong choices; innocent.
"It's a boy," he said. Someday, he will be a man, with all the same emotions as the rest of us. He will have hopes and successes, talents and dreams, friendships and family.
"It's a boy," he said. Here is Hope. Here is Possibility. Here is someone who has the potential to develop into a great mover and shaker, a deep thinker, a visionary artist, a financial titan, a hero. Here is someone who can be great, who can achieve more than we have, who can fix problems we couldn't, who can move us forward.
"It's a boy," he said. Let us rejoice.

"The doctor said all of this 24 years ago, when I was born. He was a fool. He was naive, and so is everyone else who imagines so much from a baby. All people are born infants, and all are born with the same apparent potential and flawlessness. Because all were born as such and all now have less potential, less perfection, it follows that it is unrealistic to expect any infant to develop into anything more than just another regular person, as discontent and powerless as any other.
When someone is born, he'd be better off climbing back into the womb and suffocating. Ahead of him is a harsh, unforgiving world full of hard lessons and unfulfilling rewards. Nothing he achieves will ever seem sufficient, and every failure will cut him to his soul. He is doomed, as are we all, to a life full of disappointment, inconvenience, shame, hate, and insincerity. Brief episodes of happiness will be followed by long stretches of boredom and discomfort.
There is no getting ahead. I weary of this Hell. Perhaps the next will be more to my liking.”

-- -- --

"It's a man!" cried the old woman, craning her neck to see what was floating above the water. She meant a great deal more by it.