Call The Midwife's Third-Season Finale Is Full Of Fond Farewells

Much as I love Call The Midwife -- which, by the way, is really quite a lot -- the closest I've probably ever come to a complaint is that its lead, Jenny Lee, has sometimes been kind of boring. (See: this space, last season.) In addition to her being based on a real person of the same name whose memoirs form the show's source material, she's also in the unenviable position of so many series protagonists before her: the steady centre around which other characters' drama or quirks can revolve. But now, just as I was starting to appreciate her new situation in life, since Alec's death, she's giving up midwifery and, with it, this show, and I'm going to miss her!

From what I gather, the show's third season has differed from the first two in that it's been telling wholly original stories that don't come from Jennifer Worth's real memoirs, so if Jessica Raine has decided to become the new Hayley Atwell, now's the logical time for Call The Midwife to write her out. But, contemporary behind-the-scenes reality aside, I like how the show brought us, and Jenny, to this point.

As I wrote in the above-linked story about Alec's death, there's been an interesting parallel between Jenny's story and that of Alicia on The Good Wife, as both of them have reconsidered their careers and priorities after a loved one's death. Jenny's circumstances have allowed for her to do more than just think about changing her life: she took compassionate leave and sat with her thoughts for a while; she revisited hospital midwifery and confirmed that it's important to her to work with patients in the community; and finally, in the finale, she decides that the new field of hospice care is where she can do the most good. The loss of Alec is still very much on her mind, which may be the best state for her as she changes the focus of her vocation to working with the dying, and those about to join her among the bereaved. She's even met her future husband! So, farewell, Jenny. I feel bad for not always valuing your contributions. And I always liked your hair.

Even though Patsy is officially Jenny's replacement on the midwife staff, she's not quite the new Jenny in terms of her position on the show; though her empathy and politeness are coming along, she's too brisk and businesslike. Cynthia has been too meek and recessive to anchor the show. Trixie has always been more of a glamourpuss, but her burgeoning relationship with Rev. Beefcake seems to be changing her ideas about how she can be of service beyond her midwife duties, so she's a good bet to take over the slot Jenny's vacated, even if her possible eventual marriage to him gives the show's producers a perfect out for both the characters if he needs to get moved to a diocese in Liverpool or something. Of course I would love Chummy to become the centre of the show, but if producers haven't even been able to get her into every episode this season, I don't necessarily trust them to build the whole show around her.

As for the nuns and ex-nuns: I'm not sure how realistic it is either that an adoption agency in 1959 England would look so deeply into the gap in Dr. Turner's military service record, or that, once his past mental illness had been revealed, he would still be approved as an adoptive parent. Let's just say that being a nice community doctor married to an ex-nun trumps any other concerns and be happy that Shelagh will get to raise an infant after all. (Am I the only one who watched her walk into that nursery and wondered if she'd just pull a Kenneth Parcell and adopt them all? That one standing on her little chubby legs won me over, and I think most babies are bullshit!) I like how the show portrayed Shelagh's journey over the season, too -- from heartbreak over her infertility to joyful acceptance (thanks to Sister Evangelina) of her role as an adoptive parent to Timothy to her empathy for her husband's travails and negation of his shame. We had to know that she'd be okay never having a baby before we could be truly happy when one came into her life after all.

BAWWWWWWWW.

As for Sister Monica Joan: while I understand the appeal, for the show's producers, in creating a character with dementia and showing how she would continue to be not just loved but cherished in a religious community, I have not always found her troubles to be that interesting to watch. She likes to read, she likes to snack; I get it, I just don't necessarily want to watch that much of it. But Sister Monica Joan's integration into Chummy's season-ending storyline is beautiful. We've gotten small glimpses of what Sister Monica Joan's life before the sisterhood was like, as when it turned out that a clutch of jewels in her room weren't stolen but were, in fact, her inheritance. But the echoes of Sister Monica Joan's wealthy if unhappy childhood and Chummy's gave the two of them a chance to relate to each other in a new way: it let Sister Monica Joan ease some of her pain surrounding her own mother's death by sharing it with Chummy and saving her from having regrets. As horrified as I was by the way Lady Browne failed to greet her daughter with an affectionate touch in the season's penultimate episode, I never guessed that Chummy was just as unable to touch her mother. But the moment Chummy overcomes a lifetime of hurt to give her mother a manicure is quite lovely. And if Lady Browne's deathbed conversion into an approximation of a nice person is both predictable and kind of too late, anything that makes Chummy happy is undeniably a good thing.

While the end of this season wasn't quite as dramatic as the last -- no one's home is about to get knocked down; no one kicked TB just to ditch holy orders and get married -- it offers sweet sendoffs for its key characters and opens up compelling possibilities for Season 4.

Plus: cute babies. When you really break it down, it's kind of the perfect show.