Strength in the Struggle

HORIZON WEST It’s a spring Saturday, and the Florida sun is nearly at its height. Light spills through the front windows and into the Allen home — bathing the only photo that exists of Janell Victory Allen.

A Mickey Mouse blanket wraps around her body. Her eyes are closed, and a tiny tuft of hair peeks out from beneath a baby hat striped in pink and blue. She looks perfect. A perfect angel who never drew her first breath.

A tiny golden urn sits on the same shelf as the photo. A poem written by Janell’s mother, Lizzy, hangs nearby.

I know you’re always with us,

always watching what we do.

But this is not how it’s supposed to be,

we were supposed to watch over you.

Lizzy and her husband, Ethan, were young newlyweds — just 21 and 24 years old — when they were dealt a blow that could have torn any marriage apart. Some thought it would.

But it only strengthened the bond that ultimately led them on a journey that includes the births of two more children — son Phoenix and daughter Scarlett — and a cross-country move from Seattle to Florida. And through it all, family came first.

“I truly believe I was put on this earth to be a mother,” Lizzy says. “It’s my purpose in life.”

THE FIRST
When you know, you know.

And it didn’t take long for Lizzy and Ethan to know.

Both Seattle natives, the two met online in 2003 — long before eHarmony had mainstreamed Internet courtship. They fell hard and fast, and in nine months, they were pregnant.

Some family members and friends thought the wedding that followed was because of the pregnancy, but the truth was Ethan already had planned the proposal.

Lizzy was about 27 weeks pregnant on their wedding day, June 19, 2004. It was a perfect day, filled with family members and friends. Everything was falling into place.

Then, one week later, doctors placed Lizzy on bedrest and diagnosed her with pre-eclampsia, a dangerous condition characterized by extremely high blood pressure.

“I was 21, and I didn’t know anything,” Lizzy says. “I just took the doctor’s word and did what they said. We thought she might be premature; we never thought we’d lose her.”

At 31 weeks, Lizzy’s blood pressure spiked to 180/120, and the baby stopped moving. At the hospital, doctors administered magnesium sulfate to bring Lizzy’s blood pressure down. They were afraid of her having a seizure, which could have killed her.

“That was their primary concern — get my blood pressure down,” Lizzy says. “And because Janell stopped moving, I went to the hospital. So in a way, she saved my life.”

Nurses tried for 20 minutes but could not find Janell’s heartbeat. An ultrasound later confirmed Janell had died.

Janell Victory Allen was born at 6:43 p.m. July 25, 2004. She was 3 pounds, 1.7 ounces, and 16-and-one-half inches long. The nurses placed Janell in Lizzy’s arms.

“She was absolutely perfect,” Lizzy says. 

She and Ethan struggled for words. There are no words. After a short time, nurses took Janell to the morgue.

Later, when their parents made it to the hospital, the nurses brought Janell back for one final goodbye. After their guests held Janell and told her how much she was loved, they left Lizzy and Ethan alone with their daughter. They cried and kissed her forehead. They said goodbye.

And then, they had to let her go.

A SMALL VICTORY
In the months that followed, Ethan struggled to balance the grief over the loss of their daughter, a new marriage and a budding career at a startup software company. Eventually, they started A Small Victory, a nonprofit organization that created kits for parents who lost their children to stillbirth or miscarriages. The kits helped parents collect memories and other information about their child. 

Woozy from a cocktail of medications to control her blood pressure and pain, Lizzy doesn’t remember much about the day Janell was born. And that’s why that one photo, of Janell wrapped perfectly in a Mickey Mouse blanket, is so treasured.

“When they asked me if I wanted a photo, I thought, ‘How morbid. Why would you want a photo like that?’” Lizzy says. “But, I thank God every day for that photo. I don’t remember much — just bits and pieces. I wouldn’t have remembered her face without it.

“I can’t describe what it feels like to have lost that baby,” she says. “It’s always going to be like a piece of me is gone.”

The silence at home was nearly unbearable. Everything had been prepared for Janell’s arrival. Instead, there were boxes upon boxes of unused baby clothes, toys and supplies.

“Coming home was the worst experience,” Lizzy remembers. “Just feeling that empty house. … There were moments when I swore I heard (Janell) crying. We didn’t want to live like that. We wanted to try again. We wanted to be parents.”

THE HOPE
Thirteen-and-one-half months after they said goodbye to Janell, they said hello to their son.

Ethan Phoenix Allen was born at 8:03 a.m. Sept. 9, 2005. He weighed 5 pounds, 14 ounces and was 17-and-one-quarter inches long. These days, Phoenix is a sweet and sensitive 10-year-old who, like any other fourth-grader, loves Minecraft. Lizzy says he’s her hope, her proof that something does rise from the ashes.

But Lizzy’s pregnancy with Phoenix was fraught with as much uncertainty as with Janell. At 20 weeks, she began having contractions, and doctors put her on bedrest.

“People think bedrest is great, but it really isn’t,” Lizzy says. “You can’t do anything. So, I started playing ‘World of Warcraft,’ and I made this huge paper chain.”

Throughout the pregnancy, Phoenix struggled to keep his heart rate up. At 32 weeks, Lizzy went to the hospital for observation. Doctors kept her there for two days and then sent her home. But one day later, she returned. Phoenix was breech, and the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck.

“I was terrified of losing the baby at any moment,” Lizzy remembers.

At 36 weeks, doctors performed a C-section and brought Phoenix into the world. Finally, the Allens had their baby boy.

“When they brought him into the room, everyone just fell silent,” Lizzy remembers of when her family members met Phoenix for the first time. 

Oh my God. He looks exactly like Janell. Identical to his big sister.

Phoenix spent his first few days in the NICU; he had trouble eating, breathing and regulating his temperature. Soon after coming home, he became jaundiced. He was a quiet baby and didn’t say his first word until 19 months. 

“He was super compassionate and super emotional,” Lizzy says. “I could sing a song, and he would start crying.”

The Allens taught Phoenix sign language, which helped them communicate early on. Later, they enlisted the help of a speech therapist and also had Phoenix tested for autism. Doctors first diagnosed him with sensory-processing disorder and later with high-functioning autism at 3. Since then, he has lost the autism diagnosis but still has the SPD designation as well as anxiety. Phoenix currently is going through another round of neuropsychological testing.

But, just like Janell, these trials have strengthened the bond between Lizzy and Ethan.

“These experiences that we go through — it just brings us closer together,” Lizzy says. 

Originally, doctors considered the complications with Janell a fluke. But after the difficulties Lizzy experienced with Phoenix, they suspected other pregnancies likely would have complications. Their advice: If the Allens wanted more children, it should be sooner rather than later.

Almost exactly two years after Phoenix was born, the Allens welcomed their third baby.

THE JOY
Scarlett Evangeline Allen, born at 12:41 p.m. Sept, 25, 2007, weighed 6 pounds, 2 ounces and was 18-and-one-half inches long. She was bald. She was pink. And she was screaming.

“I think nature or God or whoever did that on purpose,” Lizzy says. “She was not a replacement for Janell. She was her own, separate child.”

Scarlett was strong, even in the face of similar complications that her big sister experienced. Once again, Lizzy’s blood pressure spiked during pregnancy.

“Here we go again — my third pregnancy with garbage,” she says.

But Scarlett was a fighter, and medication helped keep Lizzy’s blood pressure under control. At 24 weeks, doctors discovered Lizzy’s placenta had already aged to appear close to term. Because of this, it could die or stop functioning. Doctors advised the Allens to bring a packed bag to every appointment throughout the rest of the pregnancy.

Lizzy again was placed on bedrest. During the three pregnancies, she estimates she spent nine months confined to a horizontal position.

At 37 weeks and two days, Lizzy and Ethan packed the car for the hospital. At about 1 p.m., “Brahms’ Lullaby” began to play over the hospital’s intercom system. Scarlett, the Allens’ joy, was here.

“She added completeness to our family,” Lizzy says. “She brought the light and the happiness back. And she and Phoenix were best friends since Day 1.”

In fact, the first time Phoenix said, “I love you,” it wasn’t to his mother or even his father.

I love you, Baby Carlett.

“It was the best thing a mom could ever hear,” Lizzy says. “I cried like a baby when I heard it.”

MOTHER OF THE YEAR
Three years ago, after living their entire lives in Washington, the Allens — huge Disney fans — stuffed their minivan with their belongings, their children, a parrot, a fish and a house plant and headed toward the sunshine. Sure, Lizzy and Ethan had their homesick panic moments, but they both were there to keep the family on track. They drove 14 states in eight days, finally settling in West Orange. They’re now building a house here, planting their roots so their family can continue to grow.

Both Lizzy and Ethan say everyone in their family plays an important role. They wouldn’t be the same people without each other, and both wouldn’t be the same without their children. And, of course, Ethan believes his wife is worthy of a Mother-of-the-Year trophy.

“She’s as motherly as you can get,” he says. “Room mom, PTO, active in Scarlett’s ballet, crafts, she manages the chores. … She does everything a Mother of the Year would do.”

And even though Janell is not here, her presence continues to influence the Allens, too.

“She shaped who we are, who I am as a mother,” Lizzy says. “I’m more protective and attached because I know what it’s like to lose a child. Phoenix slept in our bed; we did attachment parenting. Why would I ever sit my baby down when one was taken away from me? Why would I ever want to let them go? I want to be there for everything.”

Phoenix and Scarlett both have special teddy bears made from their big sister’s clothes.

“(They) know they have an older sister looking down on them,” she says. “I’m incredibly thankful for her. We wouldn’t be who we are without losing her. She brought us closer, and she allowed us to have our other children. Going through that loss gave us strength we didn’t know we had.”

Contact Michael Eng at [email protected].