By Amanda Loucks
Mommy to Wyatt – Trisomy 21 / Stillborn
and Ean – born premature at 29 weeks
July 2025
In January 2024, I made the decision to become a single mom using donor sperm. My first attempt in May ended in a chemical pregnancy. The second didn’t take. My third attempt resulted in an ectopic pregnancy that had to be terminated. Three months later, I became pregnant again—this time with twin boys. I was in complete shock.
At 12 weeks, genetic screening showed a very high risk that both boys had Trisomy 21 (Down syndrome). I underwent an amniocentesis, which came back showing both were normal and identical. That result felt odd, so my genetic counselor and I decided to do further testing. The next test revealed three total sets of DNA—mine and theirs—indicating that the boys were actually fraternal twins. I opted for a second amniocentesis at 24 weeks. This time, we learned that Wyatt did have Trisomy 21.
I was devastated, thinking about all of the potential medical challenges he might face. I was nervous and scared to be a single mom to twins, especially knowing one might have special needs. I leaned into friends for support and researched everything I could about Down syndrome to prepare myself. I imagined taking my sons to the zoo and hiking, exploring the world together, and teaching them to be kind—to people, animals, and themselves.
My prenatal appointments increased significantly. At 27 weeks, I went to Cardinal Glennon Children’s Hospital for a fetal echocardiogram. Thankfully, both boys showed no major heart defects. At a routine prenatal appointment at 27 weeks and 6 days, both boys were active and healthy.
At 28 weeks and 5 days, I noticed a decrease in fetal movement. The next day, I went to the hospital and was told Wyatt no longer had a heartbeat. I lost my child. I was gutted, utterly devastated. Ean was still doing well, but I was admitted to monitor him.
Early in the morning at 29 weeks, Ean’s heart rate suddenly declined, and I was rushed into an emergency Cesarean section under general anesthesia. My boys were delivered on July 30, 2025. Ean was immediately rushed to the NICU. Wyatt was stillborn.
The doctors asked if I wanted an autopsy performed for Wyatt. I declined. Trisomy 21 carries a high risk for stillbirth, and the placenta analysis was normal. I did not want my son to go through another procedure. I wanted him to be at peace.
I also lost the birth experience I had imagined. Because I was under general anesthesia, I did not get to bond with either of my children immediately. I didn’t meet my surviving twin until he was five hours old, and I didn’t get to hold him until the day after he was born.
I was able to spend two full days holding Wyatt before saying goodbye. That time gave me some measure of closure. One of Wyatt’s doctors asked if I would like photos taken the day after they were born. An On Angels’ Wings photographer came to the NICU and took family photos of us together. I am so thankful for those memories. Seeing my boys together and having those moments captured is something I will treasure forever. Those photos will allow me to honor Wyatt and help Ean know his brother.
Ean spent nearly three months in the NICU after being born 11 weeks early. He continues to grow stronger each day, though he has faced breathing challenges and remains on oxygen. Watching him fight has been incredible.
When Wyatt was first diagnosed during pregnancy, I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to manage all of the medical needs he might have. I worried that Ean would feel neglected if I had to focus so heavily on Wyatt’s care. Now, my fears look different. I cry almost every day from grief. I lost my son. But having Ean to care for gives me hope and something to hold onto.
Wyatt and Ean are both forever part of my heart. I believe Wyatt is out flying around and watching over his brother. Ean is such a fighter, and I am in awe of him every single day.
I hope to take Ean on so many adventures, and we will take his brother with us wherever we go. I have some of the photos printed and displayed in his room so that Wyatt is always present in our lives.
Without On Angels’ Wings, I would not have these family photos. The experience of holding both of my sons together—captured forever—is priceless. I look at those images often and feel immense gratitude.
Acknowledging what has happened is such a significant part of processing trauma. What OAW provides is a tangible way to acknowledge both the loss and the love. Giving families something real to hold onto—especially when everything else feels shattered—is something that cannot be replaced.
