Holding close, letting go: 'The Baby' and 'Old Enough'

This afternoon, I watched a bit of television while under the weight of a sleeping baby. I had tried twice to put him down in his crib, but each such attempt ended in waking, increasing fussing, and then full on crying. Today, the place he clearly most wanted to nap was snuggled on my body — and no substitutes were cutting it.

Perhaps that's why the shows I watched during that time resonated so much: the first episode of HBO's The Baby and the first episodes of Netflix's imported Japanese reality show import Old Enough.

The Baby is a British horror-comedy about a single, baby-less woman named Natasha who suddenly has an infant literally fall into her arms after a gory, horrifying encounter at a cliffside. While she wants literally anyone (the police, social services, or even a random petrol station attendant) to take care of this mysterious child, the baby seems to only want to be cared for by her... and may even have some sort of luck-altering powers to make that happen. The child, which the protagonist feels is decidedly "creepy" though she can't explain why, gives happy smiles and giggles and coos when in her presence, but cries (and potentially murders) anyone else. What this baby is and how it may or may not be supernatural will surely be explored later in the series, but the poster for the show already hints at its themes. 

The baby, happy and smiling, strangles the shadow of Natasha. She is trapped by him and cannot escape. The image parallels an encounter from the start of the episode, where a friend of Natasha's comments that her own baby's needs interrupting her own is something she has already gotten used to. "It's this. All the time," she essentially says as her baby fusses. "Forever." 

As I was literally trapped under the weight of a child I was afraid to wake because of inevitable crying, that line felt chillingly real and close to home. As the episode progressed, every time Natasha tried to escape the mysterious baby's presence and needs, eerie music would play and I would wince, knowing that her efforts would prove futile. The baby wanted her. The baby needed her. There was no escape.

(Unrelated, but I also want to give kudos to the creators of this show for showing a realistic, full breastfeeding latch in this pilot episode! Sure, semi-spoilers, it quickly becomes a horror scene with mediocre CGI just a moment later, but it was still surprising to me and something not often depicted in media about parenting, regardless of genre.)

In a less fatalistic tone, Netflix's Old Enough is an imported reality series that comes from Japan. In each ten-minute episode, children from the ages two to about four are sent on their first errands out in the world. The errands are usually simple and centered at places the children clearly know well; the shopkeepers and neighbors have often (if not always) been informed about the errands ahead of time, and on occasion it's even clear that the cameramen and "a hidden safety team — disguised as gardeners, passersby, fellow shoppers, and more" occasionally intervene to make sure the toddlers stay safe on their small odysseys. 

It's a cute enough show, but what struck me as I watched was less the children's journeys and emotional reactions but those of their parents. In one episode, a mother starts to cry after her son leaves for his errand. "He didn't look back," she explains. The fact that he showed little hesitancy and didn't seem to need her clearly struck a chord. In another episode, a father expresses bluntly, "I'm worried." When a producer off camera asks why, the man responds "I won't be there" and that his son might need guidance and support, something he won't be able to give if the boy is "alone." 

Other parents carefully go over safety instructions and share homemade signs, money pouches, and even labeled hats to help the children on their journey. There is a sense of real significance in sending their children out into the world, even with the parents who seem more outwardly calm.

Maybe its the sleep deprivation talking, or the fact that I had a baby on my chest literally the whole time I watched these episodes, but these shows felt like they were engaged in a kind of unintentional dialogue. Parenting can feel smothering, horrifying, and draining; it can seem like the baby never wants to be put down and will always need your full body and attention all of the time. But before you know it... that's not the case. And that can be wonderful and painful and exciting and horrifying too. 

(And sometimes, even in the first early months, the baby sleeps in a crib just long enough to let his mom throw in a load of laundry and finish up a blog post. So yay for small victories at all stages.)