Those were the last words of St Peter Chanel, whose feast day is today, as he lay dying following an attack by an angry mob. I feel they're quite apt as I contemplate the dying embers of my career...
The meeting this morning did not go well. We were put on notice that a 'consultation' period will be beginning in two weeks, at the end of which there 'may' be redundancies. This is lawyer-speak for 'none of you will have a job in a couple of months' time'.
There is a faint possibility that one or two people out of the seven of us will be kept on, but if that happened, the job description would have to be changed beyond all recognition to allow the work to be done by two people - all seven of us are working pretty much flat-out at the moment.
DH and I chatted about it last night, and we came to the following conclusions.
First, we reckon that with the pay that's still coming to me between now and when I get kicked out, together with his salary and what's left of our savings and a bit of belt-tightening, we can probably manage until the end of the year, which gives me a chance to work out what's going to happen next.
Second, it's almost certain that I'll never again earn as much money as I am doing at the moment - and we're both OK with that. He said he'll support me in whatever decision I make about the future - at the moment, freelance work is looking like a possible option, but we'll see.
Third, if my FSH level is OK this month, I'm cancelling the out of town work commitment that would have prevented us going ahead with treatment. Why should I put our possible future on hold for the sake of a job I'm about to lose?
Fourth, if I do keep my job and end up getting pregnant, I'll stay long enough to get maternity leave, then tell them I'm not coming back.
And finally and most importantly - this is not a disaster for us, but an opportunity. I'm angry at the way we've been treated, but excited to see what the future holds.