Lindsey M. Henke is the author of the new book When Skies Are Gray: A Grieving Mother's Lullaby. A psychotherapist, she lives in Minneapolis.
Q: Why did you decide to write When Skies Are Gray, and how was the book's title chosen?
A: After the stillbirth of my baby, I was devastated—fully submerged in a kind of grief I had never experienced before. Nora, my daughter, was my first child, and after spending 40 weeks preparing for a life with her, I was told in the hours before her birth that she would be stillborn. I was broken.
After her stillbirth, I fell into a deep, devastating grief in a disorienting way that I could not put into words until I started writing. During the sleepless nights and empty days of my maternity leave without my baby, when I should have been breastfeeding and attending to Nora’s needs, I wrote about her absence instead.
Writing to her and about her eventually led to me creating a blog. That eventually culminated in this book.
But mostly, writing a book about my time with Nora allowed me to continue to parent her, even after her death and among the bustle of raising my other young children, that thankfully arrived after her. Writing this book was a way to still feel connected to Nora.
At first, I thought of titling my memoir, “Lullaby,” as most lullabies are short tales mothers sing to their newborns about the transition to being a parent–holding both hope and fear, grief and joy, or love and loss.
When I began to write from this perspective, the lyrics to the song “You Are My Sunshine” kept coming to mind. That song might be the shortest, saddest song I’ve ever heard. And at the time of writing the book, I was singing it every night before bed to Zoe, my daughter born after Nora.
That’s when I realized, “You Are My Sunshine” encapsulated our journey of love and loss so well, and had accompanied us along the way through grief and into joy.
Most of our story is sad, and some of it is hopeful, but that is why, in the end, the title When Skies Are Gray: A Grieving Mother’s Lullaby was chosen. Grief very much feels like a lifetime of living under gray skies.
Q: I’m so sorry for your loss…
Psychologist and author Dr. Jessica Zucker said of the book, “This poignant memoir contributes to the social movement of destigmatizing grief by reminding us that grief is just love.” What do you think of that description?
A: I am very honored that Dr. Jessica Zucker agreed to endorse my book. The support I have received from her as a friend, fellow author, and therapist means a lot to me, as she is a mentor and someone I look up to.
When people use the word poignant to describe my memoir, I do believe that is an accurate description, as I am often told my writing is beautiful but in a brokenly sad way. It is a very real and raw book, and most readers often report crying through it. But I believe that those readers who pick it up and who need it, will appreciate the aching grief, and it will resonate deeply with them.
Now, saying my book contributes to the social movement of destigmatizing grief by reminding us that grief is just love is also true.
I have often said, since the moment I started writing about my grief over missing Nora, that grief felt to me like love. And I do believe grief is love, but love is vulnerability, and both love and vulnerability can be scary for people.
That is why grief, the loss of love, and the ultimate vulnerability, are scary for us to talk about as a societal conversation. I can only be honored and hopeful that my words do play a part in continuing to help the narrative of grief as love along. 
Q: What impact did it have on you to write this book?
A: Writing the book has changed my life, just like being Nora’s mother has. As is often the case with being a parent, our lives are changed in unexpected ways.
When I started writing, I thought I would just write a book and publish it within two to three years after Nora’s death. But life did not work out that way. Other children, thankfully, were born and needed tending too. Along the way, other things were born out of my writing too.
I started the national nonprofit, Pregnancy After Loss Support (PALS), which supports bereaved parents who are doing the impossible task of holding hope and fear, grief and joy as they are pregnant again with a baby born after the death of a previous one.
The creation of this community came from my sharing blogs about my own stillbirth and subsequent pregnancy, and it has provided me with friendships I can’t imagine my life without.
It also brought opportunities to help others who are in the position I once was in as a psychotherapist who specializes in supporting parents going through perinatal loss and a subsequent pregnancy, which is an amazing privilege as well.
When I sat down to write the book 10 years ago as a way to continue to connect with Nora, I didn’t know where this journey would take me. And now, I even see promoting her book as a continuation of parenting Nora and once more birthing her back into this world. But this time, maybe her story, unlike her, will live on.
Q: What do you hope readers take away from your book?
A: When I sit down in therapy with a new stillbirth or infant loss client, they usually look to me as the future self they hope to be – a parent with a living child, a person who can find joy in life after such a devastating loss.
They often want me to not just offer a listening ear and coping skills, but also a roadmap for how to move forward and a companion to get down in the deep well of pain with them. I can be that and do that for those who show up in my office, but I am only one person and can only see so many clients a day.
Hopefully, for those who don’t find their way into my office, my book can be that compassionate companion along their grief journey that, again, lets them know they are not alone, they didn’t do anything wrong, they aren’t being punished, and that no matter how their journey unfolds, they will always be a parent.
Q: What are you working on now?
A: Resting? As I’m learning, promoting a book is as much or more work than writing one.
But I do have an idea floating in the back of my mind–a first-person memoir about my own struggles with mental health in motherhood. I see this come up in my private practice, as I also specialize in perinatal mood and anxiety disorders during pregnancy and the postpartum period, along with parenting struggles.
Q: Anything else we should know?
A: If you know someone in your life who has lost a pregnancy, baby, or child, know it’s okay to say their child’s name in conversation or ask how they are doing after their loss.
Check in on your bereaved parent friends and family members during the anniversaries of their losses. Include them in celebrations like Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, and remember to be kind to them during the holiday season. Be understanding when your bereaved friend bows out on plans, and don’t take it personally.
Don’t judge the grieving parent for sharing photos online months or years later of their deceased baby or child, as we never get over the death of our child because we never stop loving our child that died. Remember, grief is love.
Finally, check on your bereaved parent friend not just on the big days, but in the months and years after the funeral, on the day their baby should have been starting kindergarten or that their child should be graduating high school.
It’s important to know how to show up for each other while grieving. I believe we have lost our footing on how to do that as a society, but I do think we are making our way back there with the expanding societal conversation of normalizing grief.
We can all be a part of that change towards accepting grief as love by supporting the grieving in our life, and maybe by extending a little extra support to the bereaved parent.
Thank you for taking the time to chat with me about my book.
--Interview with Deborah Kalb
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