“The hardest week of my life had given us the biggest reward.”

Mila Anne Chugg.

Our daughter.

Our little girl. 🤍

Sunday, 21st June, around 8:30pm, I started to feel my first contractions. They felt like mild period cramps, and at the time, I had absolutely no idea just how wild the next few days were going to be.

Throughout the night, the contractions slowly started to ramp up, making it almost impossible to sleep. By around 3:30am, things had eased enough for me to get a little bit of rest, although it was very much on and off.

Monday came, and we tried to keep things moving. We went for walks in the fresh air, relaxed at home, and Wes worked on pressure points and rebozo techniques with me. The contractions would slow down, then come back again. I spent the day timing them, never really knowing whether this was going to be the moment we finally met our baby girl.

That night, I put on the TENS machine to help with the pain in my lower back and went to bed early, hoping to get some much-needed rest.

But sometime in the early hours of the morning, everything changed.

The contractions became stronger and stronger. I couldn't stay in bed anymore. I found myself moving around the room, trying to find positions that made each contraction even slightly more bearable.

I remember looking at Wes and saying,

“I can’t handle this pain for much longer.”

He reminded me to breathe. To focus on what we had learnt through our Calmbirth course. He encouraged me through every contraction, helping me change positions and reminding me that I could do this.

So I sat up in bed or lay over my fit ball on the floor and breathed through each one.

One contraction at a time.
One breath at a time.

And somehow, I kept going.

This continued for days.

Each day felt different, but the contractions slowly became stronger and stronger.

Wednesday, 24th June — Mila's due date

We were lucky enough to have a pre-booked appointment with our midwife, who could see just how much I was going through and how hard I was working through each contraction.

We discovered Mila was sitting over on my right side, causing a huge amount of pain along my left side. Our midwife suggested we head home and work on some Spinning Babies techniques to encourage Mila into a more central position, along with having a bath to help me relax.

Later that afternoon, we went into the hospital to make sure Mila and I were both doing okay. Afterwards, we had a last-minute appointment with our osteopath, Lizzy from Body Focus.

Lizzy was incredible.

She helped with Mila’s positioning, worked on opening up my hips and supported me through the contractions. She was so calm and knowledgeable, and I remember feeling so grateful to have another person helping us through this marathon.

But we were facing another sleepless night.

The hospital also gave me sleeping tablets in the hope that I could get some rest, but they didn't do much. I spent the night getting up and down, trying to find some comfort, hoping that maybe tonight would finally be the night she arrived.

And then suddenly...

It was Thursday.

By this point, I was exhausted. Completely and utterly drained. My body was sore. My mind was tired. Emotionally, I had nothing left.

I remember sitting on the edge of my bed and crying because I was starting to lose hope. I had been contracting for days, barely sleeping, and I just couldn't understand how much longer my body could keep going.

But throughout it all, Wes never left my side.

He encouraged me, applied pressure to my back, used more of the techniques we learnt during our Calmbirth course, reminded me to breathe, and made sure I was eating and drinking.

He was there through every contraction, every tear, and every moment where I questioned whether I could keep going.

We are so incredibly lucky to have Cherie as such a supportive mother and mother-in-law to us. She was also constantly checking in on us, offering advice, support and reassurance whenever we needed it. We were so thankful to have such a knowledgeable and supportive person in our lives.

I genuinely don't think I could have done it without these people around me.

By Thursday morning, I had made up my mind. If things hadn't progressed by 6pm, I wanted to go into hospital. I couldn't face another sleepless night.

6:00pm came.

I had been working hard at home all day, and the contractions were now coming around every three and a half minutes and were becoming increasingly more intense.

We called our midwife, Rachel, and she said we could come into hospital if we felt ready.

So we packed the car and off we went.

Leaving home as a couple for the last time.

Once we arrived, they monitored both Mila and me and performed an internal examination, given how long I had been in early labour. And that's when we discovered my waters had actually broken.

I hadn't even realised when it had happened.

And I was 3cm dilated.

After days of wondering whether any of this was actually getting us anywhere, it was such a relief to finally hear that things were progressing.

All of those contractions.

All of those sleepless nights.

All of those tears.

They weren't for nothing.

The nurses prepared a room for us, and we were incredibly lucky to get one with a bath — something that had been very high on my birth wish list.

We barely had time to settle in before the intensity of labour took over.

Our midwife, Rachel, arrived to spend the night with us and supported us every step of the way.

We moved straight into the bath, and I remember loving the feeling of the warm water running over my back.

Meanwhile, Wes couldn't catch a break.

He was constantly applying pressure to my lower back, another technique we had learnt during Calmbirth, trying to give me even the smallest amount of relief.

Birth comb in one hand.
Breathing through each contraction.

Wes beside me.

Small breaks in between.

Encouraging words.

And then another contraction.

And another.

That was how we got through our marathon.

At one point, Rachel asked if she could take some photos of us. She told us it was “one of the most magical births she had seen” — watching the two of us work together through everything.

Looking back now, I am so incredibly grateful she captured those moments.

Because they remind me of something I couldn't fully see at the time.

We were doing it together.

The night continued.

I moved in and out of the bath, had internal checks and was monitored throughout the night with the Doppler. The back pain was so intense that I couldn't bear to have any pressure taken off it.

Getting out of the bath was almost unbearable.

I would become cold, my body would tense up, and the pain would intensify.

And every single time, Wes was there. His hands pressed firmly into my back, helping me through and never leaving.

We later discovered that my waters had broken quite high up, which meant they had been slowly leaking down. Rachel then asked to break the remaining little sac and warned me that things were about to become much more intense.

Boy, was she right!

We moved back into the bath, where I felt most comfortable.

The warm water helped relieve some of the pain in my lower back and hips, while Wes continued pressing into my back so hard that I think I had permanent indents from his thumbs.

Eventually, I asked for some gas. At the time, I thought it was doing absolutely nothing. Wes later told me he definitely thought it was helping.

Time continued to pass.

Into the early hours of the morning.

And then suddenly...

I felt the urge to push.

I worked through it in the bath, but my energy was disappearing. I was exhausted, and I was beginning to lose hope again.

Rachel suggested I get out of the bath so we could check how things were progressing. As I got out, our other midwife, Chloe, arrived for the shift change.

And suddenly, I realised just how long this labour had been going on for.

How much my body had already done.

How tired I really was.

I was completely exhausted, in pain and losing hope.

After an hour of pushing in the bath with minimal progression and very little energy left, we moved onto the bed for a check.

The midwives were concerned about the amount of swelling, so the paediatric team came in to assess the situation and determine what needed to happen next.

At that point, I was asking for an epidural or, honestly, for them to just “cut her out of me!”

But everyone kept telling me,

“Noooo. You have come so far.”

And deep down, I knew I didn’t want to give up like that.

So I kept going.

I had come too far to stop.

By this point, I had absolutely nothing left. But the incredible team around me kept encouraging me.

Then Mila's heart rate began to drop between pushes, while my heart rate was rising. The medical team placed a clip on Mila's head so they could monitor her heart rate more closely.

And somehow, through all the exhaustion, I found another level of determination.

I held onto the bed frames so tightly that I was shaking the entire bed. I pushed with everything I had left.

Wes was there.

My midwives were there.

The doctors were there.

Everyone was encouraging me.

Everyone was willing me to get her out.

And then...

I finally started to crown Mila.

After everything we had been through, she was finally so close.

The team used a vacuum cup to help guide Mila out and performed an episiotomy, which I had no idea had happened. Knowing we only had a few big pushes left with the vacuum cup on, the team in the room were cheering me on.

And then, with one final huge effort...

Mila was born!

9:44am, 26.06.2026.

She was placed straight onto my chest, and she cried instantly.

I will never forget that sound.

The nurses then took her off my chest to quickly check her over and make sure everything was okay before placing her straight back onto my chest.

We then began breastfeeding, and she latched straight away.

While I was being stitched up, I just laid there with our daughter on my chest, finally able to hold the little person we had spent nine months dreaming about. Wes still beside the bed with me holding my hand. Both absolutely in amazed by my efforts after such a marathon of a week we had.

And just like that...

She was here.

All of the pain.
All of the exhaustion.
All of the tears.
All of the uncertainty.

It suddenly felt like nothing, because I had Mila in my arms.

Our daughter.

Our Mila Anne.

Once the nurses and doctors had left the room, it was finally just the three of us.

Our first moments as a family.

Thanks Wes & Libby for sharing your story.

We soaked up every cuddle. Every little sound. Every bit of skin-to-skin.

We called our closest family members and shared the news that our little girl had finally arrived.

Later that afternoon, we were incredibly lucky to be sent home early through our MGP benefits.

And from the moment we walked through our front door as a family of three, everything felt different.

Everything felt special.

It was a moment and a feeling that I know we will never forget.

Because the hardest week of my life had given us the biggest reward.

There are parts of this birth that I will never forget.

The pain.

The exhaustion.

The tears.

The fear.

The moments where I truly didn't think I could go any further.

But I will also never forget the love.

The way Wes never left my side.

The support of our midwives.

The encouragement from our family.

The strength I somehow found when I thought I had nothing left.

And most importantly...

The moment they placed Mila on my chest.

You made every single second worth it.

I will cherish this experience for the rest of my life.

And yes, women really are right when they say,

“We always go back for more.”

Because after everything, the pain, the exhaustion, the tears, the uncertainty and the marathon that was labour. There really is nothing quite like creating one of the biggest achievements of your life.

And I would do it all again.

Every contraction.

Every tear.

Every sleepless night.

Every painful moment.

It is all worth it for you, Mila. 🤍