I checked the mail over the weekend and found that the hospital had sent me bills for almost $2,000 for Kaylee’s birth, when I thought we didn’t owe anything because of the extra insurance coverage we’d bought.
Now, ok. Kaylee is, of course, priceless. If someone told me that we’d have to pay a million dollars in order to keep her, I’d find a way to set up a payment plan or sell off my soul.
But still, when you think your bills are paid, a statement saying “send payment within 30 days” -- where said payment is several digits long -- is kind of shocking.
I spent all weekend in a bit of a panic, trying to figure out how we’d manage to come up with that much money so quickly. (They don’t repossess babies, do they?)
I called the hospital this morning, having practiced my angry speech all day yesterday and all the way to work today. It involved creative swear words, a couple of insults and perhaps some crying. It was really quite beautiful.
But I didn’t get to use it after all. The lady on the phone almost immediately recognized a clerical error and told me that I didn’t owe anything.
So, there’s one weekend needlessly lost to panic (and a three-day weekend, at that), but at least I get to keep my baby. Whew.