Back when I decided to quit my job to devote myself full time to the kids (then just my daughter), I lived in fear that my husband’s fledgling pharmaceutical—the one that provided us with benefits, our car, food and roof—would tank.

And then seven weeks ago it did.

We had a lot of notice, months of it in fact. But in this economy, the job search was long and hard. My husband has never had any trouble finding a job. He was the type of person who got an offer from every interview he ever did. Until now.

After 8 months of exhausting searching, it became clear he would be laid off and we would have some time without his income. And though the generous severance did help, we were very stressed. The first three weeks of his time at home with us were spent in abject terror—me scrambling to find work (I had been slow to get back to work after Alan was born) and Rob feeling dejected and unhappy.

But then work started to roll in. I started to be able to breathe and let Rob take the reigns with the kids more. We fell into a routine of sorts. At certain points we even started to like it. Everyday was a weekend. We could spend Monday afternoon in the park! I no longer dreaded Sunday evening!

But like all good things, it had to end. After seven weeks, my husband is going back to work again on Monday. And while I am so proud of the higher position he managed to snag in this bad economy, I am also feeling a bit verklempt.

We may never have this again.

In the end, this layoff was a blip on the radar of our lives. None of my fears came to pass—the crippling financial deficit, Rob’s continued unemployment, losing our house, not being able to feed our kids. In the end, nothing changed. Except my perspective.

I have seen what it would be like to be a family of four all the time. And I don’t want to go back.

I am so happy for my husband, but so sad for us.