It’s strange how often in TV shows we see two people meet, fall in love and then, in the next scene, they have a little baby, the apotheosis of their joy. What this version of conception elides is all the intermediate things: agonised discussions about the future, tentative decisions, months of fruitless endeavour, miscarriages, doctor’s appointments, fertility clinic visits, and then – and perhaps only possibly – a little baby. And so, Babies, a new six-part drama from Marriage writer Stefan Golaszkewski arrives, this week, as a much-needed corrective to our overly simplified pregnancy narrative.
Lisa (Siobhán Cullen) and Stephen (Paapa Essiedu) are a married couple in their mid-thirties. Watching their friends and family descend into baby chaos is hard: they have recently suffered a miscarriage and are considering whether, and when, to give it another go. “I feel like we should start trying again,” Lisa confesses. “Well, if you do insist on having sex with me over and over again until you get pregnant,” Stephen replies with a smirk. But his charm is a defence mechanism, and they both understand the stakes of a process that will see multiple miscarriages test their emotional resolve and the strength of their relationship. At the same time, Stephen’s feckless mate Dave (Jack Bannon), who has a kid from a previous relationship, is falling for Amanda (Charlotte Riley), a slightly older woman with her own history of loss. In parallel, these two stories unfold, with each couple grappling with what they have and what they’re missing.
Babies is undoubtedly worthy television, but it’s hard to untangle the precise worth. The creator and stars have talked about the show destigmatising pregnancy loss (“if it makes one person able to talk about pregnancy loss when they previously couldn’t, I think the show will have been a success,” Essiedu has said). That can’t be a bad thing. Yet anyone who has experienced similar issues will find the show hard to watch and quite possibly triggering (“I was sat there with my baby dripping into the f***ing toilet!” Lisa wails). If they haven’t experienced a happy ending, then the show’s happy ending may feel more frustrating than hopeful. For those outside these experiences, watching likeable characters being brutalised by biology might prove a hard sell. This is workaday trauma, the sort of persistent, nagging fear we all live with. Infertility happens, miscarriages happen, babies happen.
Would I have watched Babies differently if my partner weren’t currently 34 weeks pregnant? Undoubtedly. It has made me more sensitive to how we talk about the process of conceiving, which is often more fraught than people imagine. But Golaszewski’s work mistakes the quotidian indignities of the process for great profundities. People will be insensitive, doctors will be dismissive (“the only thing to do is stay positive” an NHS consultant opines uselessly), and the world keeps turning. Surreptitious jellybeans, the cost of pub scotch eggs, marmite breath in the morning: these mundane details are intended to burnish the show’s realism, but feel calculated and only add distance. This verité writing, combined with excellent acting – Cullen’s conflicted Lisa is the standout, but Essiedu, approaching stardom thanks to HBO’s new Harry Potter TV show, gives an equally sensitive performance – masks the shallowness of the characters. Compared with a show like Trying, which covered similar ground, it feels bloodless.
It’s hard to criticise Golaszewski’s intention with Babies, but the result feels overly deliberate. Watching six hour-long episodes of brutally realistic conception struggles would be an unlikely introduction into the reality of pregnancy loss and fertility issues, yet for the already initiated it might feel like an exercise in creating characters just to torture them. I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone trying to conceive, which feels like a failing. Golaszewski is a talented writer, Cullen and Essiedu are powerful screen presences, yet Babies feels like it aspires to be important, rather than good.
The Sands national helpline provides support for anyone affected by the death of a baby. You can call 0808 164 3332 free of charge, or email helpline@sands.org.uk
