“There’s a whole bunch of things I can’t take care of,” Gunther says. “If you’re not standing upright, or bleeding doesn’t stop, do not call me.”
In April, knowing that they wanted to conceive this year, the Bergevins paid to join a Christian nonprofit called Liberty HealthShare. Organizations like Liberty, sometimes called faith-based plans, help like-minded members share some medical costs. To join, members must pledge to adhere to Christian principles. They are required to make fixed payments each month, and the money is disbursed to cover health-care needs for other families.
Though health-sharing ministries function like insurance in some ways, they aren’t regulated by states, don’t have capital requirements to protect against large losses and don’t have to adhere to rules about minimum benefits. They decline to cover medical expenses that result from behavior they deem immoral. They won’t pay medical costs for a drunk driver in a car crash, for example, or for contraception.
There are other restrictions too: Liberty limits coverage of pre-existing conditions for up to three years, according to its guidelines. Members can also get bounced for “failure to fully disclose known or suspected pre-existing condition information” when they join. Those limits are part of the reason why they’re cheaper—and potentially riskier.
The Bergevins originally expected to pay $450 per month for Liberty. Because Lindsie is overweight, they pay a surcharge of $80 per month—a fee regulated insurers are barred from charging. When they joined, their plan had an “annual unshared amount”—the equivalent of a deductible—of $1,500. Two months later, they learned that amount would increase to $2,250. Lindsie wasn’t thrilled, but she calls it “a ton cheaper than a typical deductible.” And on the plus side, Liberty would reimburse them for some of the cost of membership in SparkMD.
In early June, Lindsie sat at her kitchen table with a stack of medical bills going back four years. Sky ran in from the living room, where Dr. Seuss cartoons played on the TV, looking for dessert before he finished his dinner.
The Bergevins’ improvised plan has pros and cons. They didn’t have to pay premiums for almost two years while they were uninsured, easing their finances significantly while their businesses grew. They love the personalized care they get from Gunther. And their costs for having another child should be capped at a lower level under the Liberty plan.
But between Liberty and SparkMD, the Bergevins pay more than they did for health coverage through Lindsie’s old job, and, she estimates, about as much as Obamacare insurance would cost. The family is still exposed to considerable risk. Liberty caps reimbursements at $1 million—a limit that insurance companies can’t impose. They have two friends who have had cancer, and, Chris says, “a million’s definitely not enough.”
The Bergevins have their fingers crossed that their choices will allow them to expand their family without incurring the kind of debt that Sky’s birth and Lindsie’s surgery left them with. But they know their improvised approach isn’t for everyone.
“It’s not like I’m trying to say, just go without insurance,” Lindsie says. “You have to find something that’s going to work for you.”