Earlier this month, I discovered a family of mice living in my stove. The pups were so young, they hadn’t even opened their eyes yet! Two of them were hungry enough to blindly make their way from the back of the stove to the kitchen floor, where my dog, Tica, called my attention to them immediately. The fact that they made their way out to search for their mom or for food was enough to convince me that their mother had been gone for some time and was not coming back.

I had heard little squeaky noises off and on, but because I brought 4 brand new baby chicks home the day before, I assumed it was them making the sweet little noises. It wasn’t until the pinkies presented themselves in plain sight that I believed what I was hearing. While I didn’t want a family of mice living in my home, I certainly didn’t want them dying there either. I decided I was going to have to be their surrogate. (Well, to be honest, it’s not much of a decision for me.

There’s no question what to do in these cases. You just do what you can to save their lives, even if you have no idea how to be a mouse mama/bunny mama/bird mama–or whatever shows up at my door that day.) I snugged them into a soft washcloth and set them in a box next to the chicks, where they would be safe from the dog and cats. I headed out to the store for some Kitten Meal Replacement and an eye dropper.

Upon my return, I found both babies had passed away. The radiating heat from the chicks’ heat lamp was probably too much. Ugh, my heart! What had I done to these poor little ones that came looking for help? I cried and cried, telling them and their mama how sorry I was for what I had done. How could I not have foreseen that outcome? And how could two little mice I had just met bring so much sadness to my heart?

As an animal communicator, I knew it was no accident that these pups had found their way to me and my heart. The question was, why? As I sat with them for a few minutes before taking them out to be buried, I heard more squeaking from behind the stove!

This next baby was not as easy to find. I had to pull off stove panels as I tracked the squeaking sounds. At last! Tica pointed her out and I was able to reach her. I had the KMR all ready to go so I began feedings every couple of hours. Each time I held her my heart fell more in love with her sweet and innocent little soul. I’m not sure if she was drinking as much milk as she was bathing in, but she was reaching for the eye dropper and wrapping her tiny little fingers around it and trying to suck in the milk. I was in complete and utter amazement as I watched this teeny tiny baby try to suckle for nourishment. So much life and pure love in a body smaller than my thumb!

Being only a few days old, she didn’t even know how to poop yet, so I gently massaged her low belly with a moist cotton swab after each feeding until her body finally released its itty bitty droplet of poop. Yay! I did something right! Little Jackie and I woke every couple of hours all night long for feeding, pooping and a sponge bath to get the excess milk off her body. She was doing so great and I was thrilled she made it through the night and appeared to be doing good. But, it was not meant to be. I had probably gotten milk into her lungs attempting to feed her and drowned her. Sigh…Jackie passed away late that next morning and was buried with her two other siblings, Petunia and Magic. My heart was again feeling responsible and overwhelmed with sorrow.

A short while later, while connecting in with the spirits of Magic, Petunia, and Jackie, I heard yet another squeaking coming from the stove. This little gal was even more challenging to find than the others, but the stove was easier to pull apart the second time. I don’t know how, but Gretchen seemed stronger and more resilient than the other two, and she had been alone a full 36 hours longer. Part of me couldn’t help thinking she’d be better off on her own than if I tried stepping in, but I knew that was my false self voice talking.

If it’s one thing I know, my False Self voice lies.
A lot.
All the time.
Always.
My False Self never tells the truth about anything, so I chose not to listen to her and started feeding Gretchen.

Ultimately, Gretchen only made it until late that evening before passing away. As I held her and said goodbye, I asked,

I had been in an emotional downslide the last two weeks prior to this. It was the 5 year anniversary of my husband’s terminal cancer diagnosis. Dates are powerfully strong for me. Even when I can’t remember the exact date, my body gives me signs that something is activated in my cellular memory. I was weepy, emotional and physically drained. I am aware it’s my body’s way of asking me to slow down, acknowledge the grief and give myself time to be with it so I can heal another layer. This anniversary was no different. Once again, it kicked up all kinds of fears for me about love and loss and the what ifs of allowing myself to fully love again so that I can take a deeper look at it and where I am with the whole thing. Am I ready or am I still in protection mode?

There are moments when I feel like I’m ready to open my heart to someone again. To be honest, just putting that in writing makes my stomach churn. I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life, but I also have come to a place of loving myself enough that I am ok just being with me. I like being with myself but I would also like to have someone to share the incredible life I am creating. If only someone could guarantee I won’t have to face the heartbreak of death once again.

A bigger part of me finds it easier to keep people at a safe distance. You can come in this far, but you must stop here.  {*draws line in the sand*}  I’ll let you in, but only into that place just outside of my heart because if I let you in, something will happen to you and I can’t go through that again.

I won’t go through that again. My heart CAN’T survive that again.

The ultimate message from the mice was this: “You opened your heart over and over again to us, despite knowing that each one of us was unlikely to survive. Our passing was not your fault, so you must forgive yourself and look at what other ways you are not forgiving yourself in love. Your heart is resilient and capable of so much more than you think. There are no limits on the number of times you are allowed to love. Even if it doesn’t end the way you expect it to, you can choose to be open to loving again. You cannot shut your heart down forever. It is not in your nature to do so. You have so much love to give. It is only your fear that stops you from fully giving and receiving love.”

It’s amazing to me that 4 blind mice saw more in me than I saw in myself, and that they were willing to share their short lives with me so that I could heal and grow and crack another protective layer off my heart. Thank you Magic, Petunia, Jackie and Gretchen for your wisdom and your love.