What They Gave Each Other

What happened when a lawyer connected two clients with similar cases

BY TYLER GOLDBERG-HOSS

“No need to call me back, but I wanted to say congratulations. I’m so happy for you and for Sasha. She said you did an amazing job and that you deserve to hear that from more than one person. So, congratulations. All right. Bye.”

I have two voicemails saved on my phone. One is from my father. The other is from my former client, Sarah.

Sarah left that message the day she learned that Sasha—another mother I’d represented in a separate birth injury case—had reached a settlement in her son’s lawsuit. Sarah knew because Sasha had texted her after the mediation.

It might seem improbable that two women, each the mother of a child catastrophically injured during birth, would not only know each other but become close enough to lean on one another during the most emotionally charged stages of their cases. But that’s exactly what happened. And it happened because of a suggestion from a professional acquaintance of mine named John Fountaine. John is a vocational expert I’ve worked with for years, and I’ve developed trust in his judgment. So much so that I rarely retain anyone else to do the job that I know and trust John can do.

It was February 2024, and I was working on two separate birth injury cases. Both involved young boys who had suffered profound brain injuries during labor and delivery. I had retained John to help assess the likely future economic damages in each case.

During one of our phone calls, John paused. “Have you ever thought about connecting the two moms?” he asked.

It caught me off guard. My mind jumped to the potential risks: What if one case went well and the other didn’t? What if they compared outcomes? What if I was unintentionally inviting heartache? What else could go wrong?

John didn’t have the answers to these questions. He’s just the guy with the idea. But it was a compelling idea. I thought more about it, but not too much more. Why not? Sure, something could go wrong. But what about all the potential things that could go right? What if each of these mothers, and their sons, could benefit from connection?

And I trusted these two wonderful, strong, brave mothers. So, (with their permission, of course) I did it.

Sarah lives in the city. She’s married, working, raising her special-needs son and a younger daughter. Sasha lives in the country. She’s going through a divorce, working two jobs, and raising her son and his older siblings.

Soon after I connected them, they became close. I realized that neither of them really had someone to empathize with. Primarily, in being the mother of a child with profoundly different abilities in this world. Secondarily, in going through birth injury litigation. Ups and downs, stresses, having to talk with me regularly … you know, tough stuff.

Sarah and Sasha started texting, then meeting for coffee, even though they lived two hours apart. They began leaning on each other in a way only another mother of a medically complex child could understand.

When it came time to resolve Sarah’s case that summer, she was a force. She took the lead interviewing trustees for her son’s special needs trust. I’ve worked with many families during that process, and usually I’m the one guiding it—helping them ask the right questions, providing structure and reassurance. Not Sarah. She asked the tough questions, did the research, and ran the numbers. I was in awe. So was Sasha, who was watching closely and learning.

Fast forward to the spring of 2025. It was Sasha’s turn. She was leaning on Sarah’s expertise; she had just been through it. And finally, we reached resolution. I was spent after a day sitting with the emotional weight of everything that went into the case, and how it must have felt for Sasha. We figured out a way to make her son’s life better.

Then I received that voicemail from Sarah. And it was hard not to get a little emotional.

By this time, Sarah had become an indispensable resource for Sasha. Sasha told me how lucky she felt to have Sarah’s support and advice. We joked that Sasha was like me: someone who appreciates a shortcut when someone trustworthy has already done the hard work. Sasha didn’t need to research every trustee option—Sarah had already done it. And Sasha had more than enough on her plate. She chose the same trustee. Of course she did.

Now it’s July. Sarah invited me and my wife to her daughter’s birthday party. My wife and I drove down to their new home, purchased with settlement funds. It is all on one floor, with wide hallways. Her son has all the room he needs to walk around in his gait trainer or be pushed in his stroller. He has his own room, with his own bed designed to be safe for children like him. They’ve poured concrete ramps in the front and the back. Their new wheelchair-accessible van was parked out front.

Not long after we arrived, Sasha pulled up with her son and his siblings. The boys sat next to each other, reaching out to touch hands. Sarah’s son has a screen mounted to his wheelchair that lets him communicate with his eyes. He started with three options. Now he scrolls through multiple screens, each with nine choices. I was amazed—but not surprised. I’m sure Sarah has already told Sasha about it, and how to work with the trustee to get it (and she’s probably told the trustee how to get insurance to pay for it).

Sarah, Sasha, and I stood next to the boys, talking. “Isn’t it strange,” Sarah commented to Sasha, “I got so used to talking with Tyler every day. And then. It just stopped.” We laugh. That is kind of how it goes. It’s intense, and then it’s over. But not entirely. At least not with these two.

Eventually, Sasha and her kids returned home—to the house she bought with her settlement funds. Sarah and I are looking forward to visiting again soon.

It’s true that the financial resolutions of Sarah and Sasha’s cases have provided real support. Homes have been purchased. Trusts have been set up and funded. Both moms now spend more time with their sons and less time just trying to survive.

But beyond that, they have each other. They share tips, go to the zoo, text daily, and trade ideas about therapies and equipment. They have someone who gets it.

I don’t know that I’ve made a better decision in any case than the one I made when I listened to John and introduced those two remarkable women. 

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