please help me bury my baby boy

It all feels like a bad dream. I keep reliving every part of it over and over again; everything happened so fast.

Austin was just 19, after 2 years and 8 months of battling leukemia his fight has ended.

on Feb 17th he woke up with really bad indigestion early Tuesday morning. Then it turned into uncontrolled nausea. This entire time, he had a nosebleed with decent-sized, long, stringy clots coming out. His platelets were <2 for 2 days. After receiving six platelet transfusions, they only went up 2.

Then he started complaining of really bad stomach pain. He ended up going to the bathroom a couple of times. It was hard to get him up because he was so weak he could barely stand. Then, after the last bathroom break, he laid down and everything changed quickly. He was dozing off and twitching. His eyes were not closing all the way, and he was confused. He didn’t know who I was. They called rapid response and put oxygen on him. They started doing so much stuff I couldn’t even keep up. There were 12 people in the room. Then they rushed him up to the PICU and started to care for him, administering blood plasma and platelets, so many blood products, and different medicines to regulate his blood pressure that was rapidly dropping.

I had strangers holding me in the PICU as they were administering CPR and shocking his heart back into rhythm multiple times. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. Then they immediately put in a G.I. tube, a breathing tube, inserted a catheter, put in a line through a vein in his groin that went to his heart, and multiple peripheral lines.

The doctor came up to me and told me, “We’re not giving up. We’re doing everything we can, but we can’t get ahead of this no matter what we do, and there’s a pretty strong chance that he will die.” He told me to call anyone I wanted to come say goodbye.

They were pushing in units of blood and plasma through syringes. They were giving him heparin spritzers left and right. There was so much going on. They were giving him so much product. Watching them do CPR on him, it looked like his whole chest was caving in. When they were putting in the lines and the tubes, I was holding his feet just so he knew I was there, and he kept trying to wiggle to stop them, but he was so out of it.

By the time I was able to go up and see him, you could tell that there was no coming back. There was no life in his eyes. They were yellow and glazed over. He wasn’t even blinking. The tubes were helping him breathe, and all the meds going through IVs were keeping his blood pressure under control and his heart beating.

Watching my kids' heartbreak, seeing their brother laying there, and watching my baby fade away was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to see, and I keep reliving every moment of that over and over.

I held his hand and brushed my fingers through his hair. He always loved that.

Then the doctor came up, placed the stethoscope on his chest, and called it at 9:56 AM. My baby went to go be with the Lord.

Austin fought so hard for so long. The last few weeks have been so hard.

All he wanted was for everyone to come see him. He wanted people to be there every day with him. I was trying to get as many people up to see him, and he was so happy when people were there and begged them not to leave when they had to go. On Sunday, Austin got to see his dog Pancake, and he was so happy. I can’t help but think back to the last few weeks and all the things Austin would say, like, “I’m never going to go home. I’m going to die here.” He just wanted it to be over. I could feel him slowly giving up the fight, and I honestly believe he was holding on just to see all of his family and dog one last time.

Obviously, I think back and wonder what I could’ve done differently. Unfortunately, Austin’s cancer was way too aggressive, but he fought it bravely and gave it his all for as long as he could.

The funeral will take place at Gephart funeral the home date is to be determined

please donate if you can, all funds will go towards helping with funeral and burial expenses.

with love,

LaClair family