*The views expressed in Bun in the Oven are those of the author and do not represent Austinist as a whole.* -The Editors

Two questions: What's more Austin than working in high tech...and getting laid off? What's the easiest way to strike panic and fear deep into the heart of a woman-with-child? Okay, so make that three: What do you suppose happens when you tell a pregnant lady that her husband's company is closing its doors in two weeks, he won't have a job, and their existing health insurance will cease shortly thereafter?

Those are pretty easy questions, right? First, I bet it takes more'n all your fingers and toes put together to tally the layoffs that you and your friends have been through. Try this: do a survey (or stick a meme on your LiveJournal if that makes it easier) asking your friends to count up their layoffs and send the number to you. Then add 'em all up. Bet it's a big number. We live in Layoffville. Things are getting better, but it's still fairly common to hear the slash and gash of jobs and contracts being mercilessly cut to the bone. Routine layoffs, usually to boost a company's bottom line, have become a permanent feature of high tech employment, for better or for worse.

The second question might be a little harder. Under normal circumstances, we moms-to-be fret the most about what's going on with our babies. Particularly for the first several months, total preoccupation with the fetus's health is de rigueur. However, there's a longer-term concern that can be summed up with one word: security. We pregnant ladies need security. It's hormonal. In an effort to make a lovely home for our much-needed partners and impending arrivals, we bluster and cluck...nesting, nesting, nesting. No, really, we all do it, and for some of us it's really kind of weird. Take the biggest Nina Hagen you know, knock her up, and she'll turn into Martha Stewart overnight. We have an instinctive drive to create the safest, most stable environment we're able.

Imagine, however, that the bottom drops out. The rug is pulled from beneath your feet. The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang oft agley.... This is how last week played out for me. Thursday, my unstoppable, rock of a mother was felled at the gym by a bobbled lateral lunge. Two broken bones and one grossly dislocated foot later, followed by immediate surgery to slap down some hardware, and she needs some help around the house. No problem, though I do need transportation to get to her house since she lives on a farm. In the country. Well I've got a great car, except...it broke down on the way to the hospital. Okay, all right, car can be towed to the shop and hubby can pick me up. We'll figure out the rest later. We're back in business. But then the third shoe drops.

"Bad things come in threes, right?" J says. "Uh, yeah...." "Well, this afternoon our general manager announced two rather suspicious meetings for tomorrow morning. We've got 'managers only' at 9:00, followed immediately by 'employees only' at 10:00." My reply? "Great. Let's buy a lottery ticket on the way to the hospital, okay?"

My husband and I both work in the high tech industry. He's in chip design, and I'm a technical writer, usually for software companies. He's been laid off four times. I'm only up to three. That's plenty, though, for me to know that last-minute meetings separating the officers from the enlisted folks often spell layoffs. How bad could it be, though? I figured J would have a crappy day on Friday, having to tell some of his direct reports -- all of whom he's very fond -- that they're getting the ol' walk to the door. Hah. Think again.

Friday morning, while trying to negotiate with Mom about how best to adjust to six solid weeks of hopping (in other words "getting her to let me help her"), I got a call from J. They are closing his company down in two weeks. Shuttering its doors entirely. Thirty people in Austin, over 100 more worldwide -- no jobs, no spinoffs, no buyout. Nada. Was there a warning? In retrospect, maybe. Negotiations with a major potential investor had recently fallen through. But still, complete cessation of all business? No one anticipated such drastic measures.

I completely and totally freaked out. Of course I started crying. I didn't stop for three hours. How would we pay for the hospital bills? The baby paraphernalia -- car seat, bassinet, swing, high chair, stock of cloth diapers...? What about my plans to decorate the nursery? Once I pushed through all that wretchedly selfish thinking, I got to the good stuff. Like, say, the mortgage? We don't live high on the hog, but we definitely exceed the lifestyle afforded by my own modest income alone. In a big way. Furthermore, we've been planning all along for me to scale back to half time after the baby is born. This is a hard stop for both of us.

As the day wore on, the news got worse. Because the company would no longer be in business, it would naturally no longer be maintaining its health care plan. Guess what? No plan means no COBRA. J covers himself, me, and his two kids. We were all facing the near certainty of no health insurance coverage starting in October. While that alone is scary enough, there's the fact that I'm due in...December. With a scheduled C-section made necessary by a previous myomectomy. Plus additional care required between now and then due to two more extant uterine fibroids. Can you say pre-existing condition? I knew you could.

After a gut-wrenching morning of phone calls, emails, and journal entries, I finally emerged on the other end of a very rough roller-coaster ride with some interesting and helpful facts. Things I never knew and never really wanted to know but now am utterly grateful for. Thanks to Bill Clinton, we've got HIPAA. I know the law has its shortcomings, but its more annoying edicts aside, it protects pregnant women in several key ways. Chief among them is removal of pregnancy from the pre-existing condition list. If you go from one group insurance policy to another, and you're pregnant, the new policy is required to cover your pregnancy in most cases.

Another federal regulation dictates that loss of health insurance (e.g. due to divorce, death of spouse, or spouse's job loss) is a qualifying event that makes you immediately eligible to elect into your own company's group plan. How handy! So even though I've already denied coverage, I can pick up the health insurance offered by my employer just as soon as J's plan drops. I can even add him and his kids (the latter is not always the case, but is for my particular plan). Another bullet dodged.

Of course, all of this still costs money, and we're not completely out of the woods 'til J finds something new. However, his paychecks will continue for several more weeks. And as quickly as Friday afternoon he was getting calls from headhunters. After I spiffed up his resume a bit -- I am a tech writer after all -- he was ready to pound the virtual pavement. General speculation is that the Austin job market is heating up these days, so we remain hopeful. And vigilant. Gotta check those job boards, jangle that grapevine, and keep the suit pressed and ready. So my security blanket has suddenly become quite tattered and torn, with patches here and stitches there, but it's still with me, and I'm clinging to it for all the comfort it brings.