BBC’s heartbreaking new pregnancy loss drama Babies made me uncomfortable – but I’m glad

Babies is a warts-and-all portrayal of pregnancy loss (Picture: BBC/Snowed-In/Amanda Searle)

In the age of binge-watching TV shows in a matter of hours before pressing play on something new to immediately fill the void, I started watching Babies, expecting to be done in one sitting.

But I wasn’t.

Instead, I found myself needing a breather after each 60-minute episode to process the weight behind what I’d seen.

And it was in those moments that I knew this was essential viewing, because it stuck with me long after.

Written by Stefan Golaszewski, the six-part BBC drama follows a married couple in their thirties, desperate to start a family.

But Lisa (Siobhán Cullen) and Stephen (Paapa Essiedu) enter uncharted territory after a string of miscarriages, forced to navigate unforeseen grief and fight to keep their hope burning despite unimaginable losses.

A concurrent storyline involves the honeymoon phase of Amanda’s (Charlotte Riley) and Dave’s (Jack Bannon) relationship. Well, it’s honeymoon bliss for him. For her, he’s a temporary fix for her physical needs and certainly not someone she wants lingering around for deep conversations once the deed is done.

So, when their fling takes an unexpected turn, and real adult responsibilities come into play, both their compatibility and Dave and Stephen’s friendship face the ultimate test.

Pregnancy loss is taboo. No two experiences are the same, so it can feel like crawling through a minefield trying to offer anyone comfort, as you’re afraid of blurting out the wrong thing.

But also, deep down, I think most of us don’t want to accept how grim the reality of it actually is.

When it comes to Babies, however, nothing has been sugarcoated. While it made for uncomfortable viewing at times, Golaszewski’s warts-and-all approach is completely necessary to hammer home the truth of how all-consuming the aftermath of a miscarriage can be.

You will see Lisa lying in bed, almost paralysed with grief. You will see her storm out on her in-laws before sitting down to devour the roast dinner they’ve cooked. You will see a woman transform from fun-loving and high-spirited to someone deeply spiteful and bitter for no reason.

Lisa (Siobhán Cullen) and Stephen (Paapa Essiedu) are desperate for a family of their own (Picture: BBC/Snowed-In/Amanda Searle) Cullen delivers a powerful, gut-wrenching performance (Picture: BBC/Snowed-In/Sam Taylor)

She cries and wails, and none of it looks pretty. She yells at her husband for failing to express his own emotions after having to ‘flush their baby down the toilet’, and, as a viewer, I wanted nothing more than to take her anguish away.

Cullen’s portrayal of the hopeful mum-to-be is gut-wrenching. For many of us, our window to miscarriages is merely statistics and news reports, but with raw finesse, she broadcast that unthinkable trauma right into my living room.

Despite the bleak subject matter, Cullen’s performance shines throughout, having clearly been crafted with respect and an awareness of the responsibility to get it right.

It feels somewhat distasteful to say a drama about baby loss made me smile, not to mention laugh. But what also radiates is its hope and humour, which, after interviewing Golaszewski and the cast, I understand was their intention. Consider that box ticked.

Babies strikes the light and shade balance perfectly. For every tearful showdown or demoralising doctor’s consultation, there’s a sarcastic quip or niche British-flavoured one-liner. While laced with deep sadness and hardship, its warmth and tenderness never falter. Even in its darkest moments, the show somehow manages to resurrect faith, sending a powerful message to anyone with whom the story resonates that, even when your world feels like it’s ending, it will keep turning.

That’s not to say a positive mindset is always shown to be for the better. At times, Stephen’s reluctance to acknowledge his grief infuriated me. His optimism becomes much more of a hindrance than a help as he buries his emotions in favour of his wife sharing hers.

Despite the bleak subject matter, the drama is still hopeful (Picture: BBC/Snowed-In/Amanda Searle)

As a viewer, I hoped for him to open up with every scene, and yet time and time again, he dismisses his pain with laddish banter and the toxic ‘keep calm, carry on’ attitude so prevalent in male friendship circles.

But that is exactly why his character is needed.

When Stephen finally lets his guard down, it’s a tsunami moment, and it almost instiled pride in me to see him hold an earnest conversation without turning it into a joke.

Similarly, Dave’s character is one of the best on-screen examples I’ve seen of the concept of masculinity and how it can cause conflict where emotions are concerned.

His naiveties and foolishness make for entertaining viewing, there’s no doubt about it, especially when he’s the cheese to Amanda’s chalk, and she, quite frankly, would rather be anywhere else than listening to his rambles and answering his preposterous existential questions.

But beneath his comical exterior is a man who is drowning, not because he doesn’t want to open up, but because he doesn’t even know how. As his father is introduced, it becomes apparent that impassivity has been passed down through generations, and Dave has never known any different. It suddenly becomes unsurprising that, despite considering Stephen his closest friend, they hardly know anything about one another.

Dave (Jack Bannon) is a brilliant depiction of how masculinity can create conflict when it comes to expressing emotions (Picture: BBC/Snowed-In/Sam Taylor) He and Amanda (Charlotte Riley) are chalk and cheese, with their new fling also bringing its own complexities to the table (Picture: BBC/Snowed-In/Sam Taylor)

There is, however, a glimmer of opportunity in his own son, Daniel, from a past romance. They can barely hold a conversation, and Dave has no clue how to be a parent beyond sitting his kid in front of a games console, but in keeping with the hope woven into the fabric of Babies, eventually, something slowly begins to shift, culminating in some of the most poignant moments of television I’ve seen this year.

In the era of Adolescence and Inside the Manosphere, the importance of such storylines cannot be underestimated. We’ve seen firsthand how they spark conversations, and I’m glad to see a TV drama taking full advantage of its power there.

All in all, Babies is as heartening as it is heartbreaking. Is it slow at times? Yes. But I came to realise that the stillness can be essential. It’s not always about saying something. On several occasions, what isn’t being said matters even more.

Whether it’s going to rock the British TV drama landscape, I’m not convinced, but somehow, that’s irrelevant. Despite its bravery in tackling such a heavy story, there’s no pompous ambition or self-entitlement here, and there’s nothing preachy about Golaszewski’s writing.

I think what counts most is that, for one person, one couple, watching at home, it is going to validate their suffering in a way most people they know will probably be too nervous to even try to do.

You may argue that’s not enough, but sometimes, the simplest thing about something is also the most beautiful.

I didn’t find Babies easy to watch, but doing so touched me in ways I’ll be thinking about for a while.

All episodes of Babies land on BBC iPlayer from 6am on Monday, March 30, with the series airing on BBC One from 9pm that night.

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