I’d had my wedding booked for over a year, but when my daughter went into labour the day before, I faced a frantic race against the clock. By Jenna Robinson, 39
I felt dazed as I sat on the hotel bed with blood dripping from my head.
Next to me, my boyfriend of four years Paul, looked mortified.
We were on a romantic break in the countryside, but Paul had been acting oddly and we’d started bickering.
In frustration he’d chucked a ring box at me and huffed: ‘It was meant to be a surprise!’
To Paul’s utter horror, the box had flown through the air and smacked me on the head, causing a gash above my eye.
‘I’m so sorry, darling,’ he said now. ‘Let’s get you to A&E.’
‘Talk about a memorable proposal,’ I said, seeing the funny side.
I realised Paul must have been feeling tense about finding the right moment to pop the question, hence our silly barney. He hadn’t meant me any harm — it was just one of those things.
When we got to the hospital, there was a long wait, so I decided to stick a plaster on the cut and try to get our romantic break back on track!
‘The proposal’s got to be really special next time,’ I teased Paul as we headed out on a walk.
‘It will be,’ he said, still mortified.
'I've got a wedding to get to'
Later that day, we were sitting on some rocks and listening to the soothing sound of a waterfall, when Paul got on one knee, opened the infamous ring box and said: ‘I love you, Jenna. Will you marry me?’
‘That’s much better,’ I replied, grinning. ‘Yes!’
Excited to share the news, I called my children Elise and Tyler, and Paul rang his two, Faith and Casey.
Everyone was delighted for us.
Over the next months, we started planning and decided on a registry office ceremony in our home town of Spalding, Lincolnshire, followed by a wedding in Lanzarote with our family.
We chose to tie the knot on 22 February, so our wedding day would be 22.2.22.
Although that meant it was over a year away, we’d always liked meaningful dates. And in numerology, a sequence of twos were called ‘angel numbers’.
It was also two days before my birthday, so it felt as if the stars would align for us that day.
Seven months later, we were on holiday when Elise got a phone call from someone.
After the call, her face was ashen as she blurted out: ‘I’m pregnant!’
She’d been to a clinic for tests before we’d left.
She was just 17, so it was a shock. But Elise had always talked about wanting to be a mum, and with our support, I knew she’d be OK.
At her 20-week scan, Elise found out she was having a boy and decided on the name Addison.
‘I’d like you to choose his middle name, Mum,’ she said, which I was touched about.
I’d been watching Teen Mums on TV to prepare us for any challenges ahead, and there was an adorable little boy on there called Jace, so I picked that.
As the months passed, we got more excited.
I’d always wanted to witness a birth and being there when my first grandchild was born, well, it didn’t get better than that!
Then, the day before my wedding — and a week before Elise’s due date — she woke up in agony.
We rushed her to hospital where they checked her over.
‘The contractions have started but they’re not that close together yet,’ the midwife said.
Elise was admitted so they could keep a close eye on her.
‘You won’t be waiting too long,’ she assured us.
Great, she’ll be in and out, I thought, breathing a sigh of relief that I could be at the birth and then head to my wedding.
Only, as the hours ticked by, there was still no sign of her baby boy.
‘You’ve got to get this baby out before tomorrow,’ I said to Elise.
‘He’ll be out soon,’ she said, between contractions.
When I spoke to Paul, he was worried I wouldn’t make it to our wedding.
But he said: ‘It’s OK if you don’t, I know you need to be with Elise.’
‘No, I can’t miss my own wedding,’ I said. ‘I’ll be there.’
At 6pm, I dashed home to grab my wedding outfit and make-up. I had a quick shower, reassured Paul and then drove back to the hospital.
The clock struck midnight, then 1am and then 2am. But while Elise’s contractions were coming thick and fast, Addison was still a no-show.
Her boyfriend was out like a light, curled up on a beanbag, but I couldn’t sleep a wink.
My wedding was at 10am, and now the doubts were seriously starting to set in about whether I’d make it on time.
Can we do this as quickly as possible?
I found myself wishing I could clone myself and be in two places at once.
At 9.15am, a doctor came to see us and said the baby was in distress.
‘We’ll have to do a C-section,’ he said.
Elise could only have one person in with her, and understandably she wanted her boyfriend. So I made a decision.
While they prepped her to go to theatre, I started changing into my pink wedding dress and brushing my hair.
‘What’s going on?’ a midwife asked.
‘I’ve got a wedding – my wedding – to get to!’ I said, as she raised her eyebrows.
‘Good luck, you’ll be fine,’ I said to Elise, grabbing my bag. ‘I’m really proud of you. I’ll be back as quickly as possible.’
Then, I clattered down the hospital corridor in my high heels and jumped into the car.
Racing down the bypass, I made it to the register office.
Although I was a few minutes late, when I opened the doors, Paul was patiently waiting for me with tears in his eyes.
‘You made it!’ he cried. ‘I’m so happy.’
‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ I said, kissing him.
It was so emotional.
We only had two guests — Paul’s dad and stepmum.
Paul had filled the registrar in on the extraordinary events of the last few hours.
‘I can’t believe it,’ she said.
‘My daughter’s giving birth right now,’ I said. ‘Is there any way we can do this as quickly as possible?’
‘I’ll do my best,’ she said.
After exchanging our vows and signing the register in around 20 minutes, Paul’s dad snapped a few photos.
‘Right, I’m off to the hospital,’ I said, giving Paul a hug before leaving him standing at the altar.
Thankfully there were no hold-ups as I drove back to the hospital. Screeching to a halt in the car park, I leapt out and ran up to the labour ward.
Bursting through the door into Elise’s room, I gasped. Her boyfriend was sitting on a chair with their baby boy in his arms.
Although I was gutted to have missed the birth by minutes, clapping eyes on my gorgeous grandson, it didn’t seem to matter.
As he handed Addison to me, I noticed he was a little bruised.
‘What happened? I asked.
‘Elise had a natural birth in the end, but the doctor had to use forceps,’ he said. ‘Elise is being checked over, but she’s fine.’
‘Thank God,’ I sighed.
When Elise was wheeled back in, both of us were in tears.
‘When was he born?’ I asked.
‘Five minutes past 10,’ she said.
My jaw dropped.
‘That’s exactly the same time we signed the wedding certificate!’ I said.
Later, I posted the news on Facebook, writing: So, 22.2.22 was our luckiest day ever. I got to marry my gorgeous, incredible soul mate and meet my amazing grandson. Elise, you smashed it!
There were dozens of lovely messages.
Congratulations to a very special couple who became husband and wife and grandparents on the same day, said one.
Three months later, we flew to Lanzarote for our wedding. Elise and Paul’s daughter, Faith, were bridesmaids, while Tyler gave me away and Casey was Paul’s best man. It was beautiful.
Now, a year on, Addison is a funny, clever little boy and the apple of my eye.
None of us will ever forget the day he came into the world — he definitely made his mark.