Paid in Full

A financial load has been eliminated. We officially finished paying off our medical bills related to Weston's and my medical care on September 27.

I'm not celebrating my fatter bank account.

We paid almost 90% of our bills within six months of Weston's death. This last one, from his neonatologists, took a little longer to be negotiated with our insurance company, and we were presented with the final bill earlier this year. There was no interest accruing, so we just decided to make monthly payments. We were projected to pay it off in November. It hadn't occurred to me to anticipate what that would feel like back when we initially made the payment arrangements.

Although it's not fun to part with money, I didn't mind the monthly payment. I always paid over the phone: I'd give the billing specialist our account number, and she'd pull it up and say, "This is for Weston Yoder." That always made me smile. I love hearing other people say his name, so much. And I would think that maybe the billing specialist doesn't even know he died, and this payment is just like me paying for a well baby visit or something. One can fantasize.

Last week, I called to make our payment, and the office informed me they would discount our remaining balance by 35% if we would pay in full right then. Well, of course I'd like to save over $100. Yes, I'll look for the "Paid in Full" receipt in the mail. Yippee, that frees up more money every month.

I hung up the phone and cried. It's yet another severed connection. We would have been spending the money anyway if Weston had lived. This is what happens when your baby dies: you'd literally pay to keep a connection, however tiny.

Although I'd give up my financial security in a heartbeat to have Weston back, I don't want to trivialize the usually-crushing financial toll of having a medically fragile child. We are fortunate to have had good health insurance and the financial resources to pay the high four figures of what insurance didn't cover, not to mention the ongoing expenses of counseling, which is not covered by insurance. The fact that the medical bills have been manageable is one less thing to worry about.

If a bereaved parent did not have the financial resources to pay his/her dead child's medical bills, the monthly bills and phone calls would be incredible stressors. This holds equally true, I imagine, for families of children with extraordinary medical needs. Weston didn't live long enough for us to be presented with a series of bills while he was alive. If he had, I know we would have been shocked, and then panicked about how we were going to pay this bill, and the next, and the next...

Although child death transcends all socioeconomic classes, among other categories, my lamenting the loss of a medical bill is definitely a first world problem.

First world or otherwise, big bank account or small, I miss my son. When all that remains are memories, I'll gladly pay for them.