1
"To be born is to suffer."
- Gautama

"Do you think babies like being born?"
"What do you mean, like to be born?"
"Exactly what I said. Do you think children are happy to come into this world?"
"Happy? But a newborn baby doesn't feel anything.
So it's neither happy nor unhappy."
"How do you know that?"
"Well, it's obvious. Everyone knows that."
"That's not much of a reason, is it?"
"I suppose you're right. But all the same, they don't really see or hear properly, do they?"
"And that makes you think they don't feel anything either?"
"Of course, they don't."
"Then why do they cry so bitterly?"
"Well, that's to expand their lungs, isn't it?"
"Expand their lungs! That hardly explains it. My goodness, don't tell me you've never heard a newborn baby cry!"
"Yes, of course I have. But that doesn't necessarily mean he's suffering."
"Do you think he's expressing his pleasure, his delight at being with us?"
"I don't think it's either of those things. I told you, babies don't feel anything."
"And what makes you so sure? If I may ask once more."
"Well, for a start, they're so small. I mean, at that age ..."
"How can an intelligent person like you say that! As if size had anything to do with it. Small! As for age, have you forgotten that, the younger you are, the more intensely you feel? Young children suffer agonies about things that seem quite trivial to us because they feel a thousand times more than we do. This is the blessing and at the same time the curse of their heightened sensitivity."
"Well, you could be right. But, all the same, it's still hard to understand that they can feel, I mean there is no real consciousness at that stage, is there?"
"Consciousness? You mean they have no soul?"
"No, no. I don't mean a soul. I don't know anything about the soul."
"But, consciousness? You know about consciousness? Wonderful! At last I have found someone who can explain this great mystery to me. My friend, I am on my knees. Tell me, please tell me. What is consciousness?"
"Well . . . actually . . . well, you see, well . . . consciousness . . ."

2
Let's not continue this discussion. Arguing is refusing to see things as they are.
Things, that is to say, facts. The simple fact is that as soon as a child is born he starts to cry and how bitterly.
And although this is very strange, it is the one thing that delights everyone there.
"How beautifully my child cries!" exclaims the happy mother, thrilled and amazed that something so little can make so much noise.
Does this crying simply mean that all the reflexes are normal and that the machine works? So man is nothing but a machine? Or could the cries be trying to express some pain, some terrible sorrow.
If the baby is crying with such intensity doesn't it mean that he's suffering terribly?
Could childbirth be as distressing for the child as for the mother?
And if so, does anyone care? It doesn't seem so, judging by the way we treat the new arrival. 
Alas, it seems a deeply rooted idea that "it" doesn't see anything, "it" doesn't hear anything. How, then, could "it" feel anything like sorrow or pain?
The answer is simple:
"it" cries, "it" screams, in short, "it" is an object.

And what if, by any chance, "it" is already a person?

3
The newborn baby ... a person?
Now, really.
Medical books will tell you quite the opposite.
Books ...
How often does the scientific truth of one day become the lie of the next. So how do we know what is what?
Looking at the facts, that is to say, asking the person concerned, the child, might give us the answer.
The trouble is that a newborn baby can't speak. And yet when you think of all the noise they make, it's hard to say they cannot express themselves.
If a Chinese man breaks his leg, although you may not speak a word of Chinese, you can understand his screaming perfectly.
And when it comes to screaming, who in the world can scream like a newborn baby?
And if you won't take my word for it, see for yourself.

4
What else is there to say?
The tragic forehead, the screaming mouth, these closed eyes, clenched eyebrows, these desperate, pleading, outstretched hands, these feet, furiously kicking, the legs curled up to protect the tender stomach, this flesh which is nothing but a mass of spasms, jolts.
How could you say that a baby doesn't speak when with his whole being he's protesting:
"Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Leave me alone!"
And at the same time begging:
"Help me! Somebody please help me!"
Has there ever been such despair in one voice?
This child is in agony. But nobody even hears it. Isn't that extraordinary?

5
"Do you mean to say that ... the reason this baby is crying so bitterly ... do you think he's trying to tell us . . ."
"Your mind will use any trick in order to block out what it really means to be born.
Looking at the pictures we've seen, people might say:
'But that's not a normal birth. This baby is being tortured by sadists!'
Sadists?
No.
Just ordinary people like you and me. And if you don't believe me, just look. Just see."
 
6
The Holy Family. In its modern version, that is.
A child has just been born. The mother and father look on delightedly. Even the young obstetrician smiles. The same look of wonder and happiness lights up all their faces.
Everyone is radiant with happiness.
Everyone except the child.
The child?
You hadn't even noticed the child, had you?
Oh no! This can't be true!
This mask of indescribable agony, these hands clutching, clinging onto this head, like someone struck by lightning, shattered, who at any moment is going to fall to the ground, like a mortally wounded soldier.

This . . . a birth?
It's a murder.

And in the midst of all this suffering, the parents . . . in rapture!

But it can't be true! No! It can't be true!
And yet, it is true.
Yes, this is birth for the child.

7
Isn't it amazing how blind we can be? Let us try to understand why.
Actually it is simple.
Take the young doctor; what is he smiling about?
The happy child? Not exactly.
"His" delivery has been a success. Mother and baby are doing well, so this man is pleased.
Pleased with himself' that is to say.
And the mother?
Blissfully happy as she smiles at her baby. Maybe she's smiling because it's over.
She's done it! She's very relieved, and more than anything, she's proud.
Proud of herself most probably.
The father?
This man who has more than likely never done very much out of the ordinary, has managed to produce (or so he is thinking!) a son and heir!
A small heir who's going to carry on the accomplishments of his parents!
Of course he's proud! 
In fact, you could say everyone is delighted.
All delighted with themselves, except ... the child.

8
Isn't it a tragedy?
We should be crying tears of shame, crying for our own blindness.
The same blindness that made us think women had to suffer simply because we didn't know any better.
Happily we no longer believe in the old saying:
"In pain shall ye give birth."
Isn't it time to do for the child what we've been trying to do for the mother?

9
But what can be done for this poor child?
Are we to look to the amazing advances in modern technology for the answer?
No. Quite the contrary.
It was only when we asked what caused a woman to suffer when she gives birth that we began to see it was her FEAR that made her fight and tighten up, lock herself into the vicious circle:
the more pain, the more fear, the more fear, the more pain.
With the same simple approach let's try and understand what makes the child suffer.