Laurel has always been an uber attached kid. It was evident from the very beginning when she made it clear that she was not interested in budging from my womb at 42 weeks. It was evident when she was a baby, during which time she was happiest and most content in my arms. It was evident when our transitions to day care and kindergarten took months (yes, months) to shake out. Laurel has said that she’d like to live with me and Jon forever, and while I realize she is speaking through the lens of a five-year-old, I also have thought that it wouldn’t be entirely out of the question if she did, in fact, hold this preference into adulthood.

But over the last few months, Laurel has changed. Whether it’s simply a function of age or the growth and change associated with kindergarten, her confidence has bloomed and she has come out of her shell. Though she remains cautious around strangers (something I’m actually glad for), she’ll now say hello to checkout clerks. Previously one to cling to my hand, she’ll now run many paces ahead of me en route to the playground. And we now can do drop off playdates with friends and she’s happy as a clam, often begging for a sleepover by the end of the date.

And on Wednesday she ran into my in-laws’s arms with a brief wave, smile, and “goodbye mommy” to me.

And no tears.

Except for mine.

We met up with my in-laws so Laurel could spend a few days of February vacation with them. My in-laws adore Laurel. She spent her first overnight with them after Christmas (she sobbed when we left but ultimately recovered quickly and had a great time). After that, my in-laws asked for more time with her over February vacation. This not only was awesome in general (for the first time we’re navigating the world of public school vacations following the luxury of year-round day care), but it allowed me to book for Mom 2.0, which otherwise wasn’t going to happen without help, since the last couple of weeks have been a bit crazy, with travel to Blissdom and the Bahamas.

And the love goes both ways. When we connected with Jon’s parents, Laurel leapt into their arms. And when it was time to say goodbye, I was the one clutching her, covering her face with kisses. Ironically, Laurel did what the teachers always advised us to do on departure; she made the goodbye short and sweet and moved on.

She looked so, so happy.

As Jon and I watched Laurel walk away with my in-laws — giggling and without so much as a glance over her shoulder — my eyes filled with tears. My girl was growing up. The easy detachment and independence that I had long yearned for was finally here. I stood there waiting for her to turn around.

She didn’t.

And oh how I ached to have her run back into my arms for one more hug.

OK, so perhaps it’s just freaky coincidental timing (and a testament to Jon’s strongly worded letter), but a couple of hours after posting about our Blue Cross shenanigans, the phone rang, and Blue Cross showed up on the caller ID.

Admittedly, I panicked for a second before picking up the phone. It felt a tad big brother.

The Blue Cross representative and I discussed the claim. I told her that we thought it was absurd that we were paying $1000+ a month in out-of-pocket premiums, never go to the doctor other than well visits, don’t get prescriptions filled, etc., yet we were being denied flu shot coverage because the person who gave the shot was registered in another state. Even though we got the shot in the appropriate state.

She changed course and said that since we’re under a managed care plan, we would have been covered if we got flu shots from our PCPs. I told her that when I called our PCPs they told us they didn’t have any flu shots available for us and told us to go to a public flu clinic. (This absurdity is a whole other matter entirely.) We went back and forth for a few minutes. She said that next year we needed to go to our PCP to get covered, or to a limited care clinic such as CVS, which contracts with Blue Cross.

And then she told me she would make an exception and reimburse us for our flu shots.

Excuse me while I go pick my jaw up off the floor.

Way back in October we experienced a remarkable level of craptastic service at our local drugstore’s flu clinic. Though Laurel and I waited in line for nearly an hour and a half with various representatives going up and down the line to hand out flu shot forms, it wasn’t until we got to the front of the line that we were told:

1. Blue Cross patients had to pay out of pocket and submit reimbursement forms.
2. They only took cash ($30 a shot).
3. They would not vaccinate children (apparently they didn’t find it necessary to pass this message down the line replete with children and their weary parents).

I was mildly annoyed that they wouldn’t take Blue Cross on the spot and it was blind luck that I happened to have gone to the bank that day and had a wad of cash on me. However, having spent the last 90 minutes assuaging Laurel’s fears about the shot, there was no way in hell I was leaving that clinic without getting them. It wasn’t my best or most graceful moment, but my mama fangs came out and I refused to leave until they gave me and Laurel shots. They did. The moms behind me in line were grateful.

Fast forward to January. It took us a while to get around to submitting our receipts and reimbursement forms and we just received word from Blue Cross that our flu shots ($90 for me, Jon, and Laurel) would not be covered. The excuse being that the person who administered the shots was registered in Rhode Island, not Massachusetts.

Even though we were, in fact, in Massachusetts when we got the shots.

WTF?

As Jon wrote in a strongly worded letter to Blue Cross MA, this is a disturbing example of uncoordinated, money-first health care. I should say that in general, Jon and I are non-interventionist when it comes to medical matters; I don’t think we even own aspirin. However, after much discussion, we decided to go ahead with the seasonal flu shot since our understanding is that they are clinically effective and cost-effective to the system (i.e., it would be a far greater financial burden if we didn’t get them then got the flu and needed to be treated), and also since Laurel is 5 and Jon is in contact with at-risk populations at work.

Since Jon and I now are both self-employed we pay Blue Cross MA more than $1,000 out-of-pocket every month in premiums, yet they feel the need to screw us out of $90 worth of care on a random technicality. (And as mentioned, we are the healthy, never-go-to-the-doctor-other-than-well-visit type of people that they’re making a pretty penny off of.) As Jon said, “At best, this seems like an example of a poorly designed or poorly executed system that cannot differentiate cost-effective from non-cost-effective care. At worst, it seems like simple greed. This is the kind of experience that leads members of your plans to feel alienated and mistrustful of your brand.”

Yes, well said. For us, it’s the principle of the matter, not the $90, but what also troubles me is that I can only imagine that there were a lot of other people in that line who followed the same procedures we did, and got screwed out of their reimbursements. And maybe that cash was really critical to them.

Growing up in a large family where we barely scraped by month to month, we never had health insurance. I didn’t even know that people got health insurance until I went to college and had to sign up. We only went to the drop in clinic when it was required for school forms and it is a miracle that with seven kids, the odds rolled so well in my parents’ favor — the only major medical issues in all those years and across all those kids were my tonsillectomy and my brother’s broken leg. Given current regulations, not having health care is not an option, but at this point I’m longing for those fast and loose times.

Because at this point, apparently our $1,000+ premiums aren’t buying us much.