Sitting in my office that day, I knew something was coming. I knew that my job was in jeopardy. I don't know how to describe it exactly, but my publisher hadn't spoken to me in several days and I just felt it coming. She wasn't the most personable individual in the world, but she was clearly avoiding me.

So, when I was called into her office and found the group vice president of our division sitting there as well, I realized in an instant that my time was up. The moment I stepped through the doorway, I was no longer a magazine editor. When I left the office, I literally danced down the hall. I couldn't believe how happy I was when I became the victim of budget cuts. Working there had been difficult.

If I'd know almost three weeks later my wife would become pregnant, I may have felt differently. And if I'd known I would continue to be unemployed for the next two years, I'm certain my feelings would have been different.

The 10 months leading up to the arrival of my son were a combination of things. Between the fruitless search for employment and the regular governmental checks, I took care of my wife as best I could. She experienced every ill effect of pregnancy a woman could, it seemed.

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