A traumatic brain injury leaves the author comatose days before her 31st birthday, but amid the horrific devastation, she and her family receive a most unexpected gift. In the Face of Catastrophe (Greenleaf), cowritten by Jenn Goldman and Caryn Hirshleifer, is an inspiring memoir of overcoming even the most daunting challenges. PW talked with the authors about how they came to view this tragedy as a blessing and what lessons they think readers, regardless of whether they're experiencing trauma, can take away from their story.

Jenn, as a wellness entrepreneur and motivational speaker before your stroke, how has this experience changed what wellness means to you?

I’ve always believed that wellness is a holistic experience involving the integration of mind-body and spirit. My stroke and its aftermath have permitted me to experience this firsthand. I’ve observed how my mind and body work together as a team, reinforcing each other. If I’m not positive or if I’m feeling emotionally drained, I’m not able to perform at my physical best and that then causes me to feel defeated and lower my expectations. When I’m more positive, however, I can do better physically, which lifts my mood and inspires me to keep going. If people were able to realize the mind-body connection, they might be more intentional about what they tell themselves.

When you were in the hospital, colleagues sent messages of support and neighbors left meals and notes at your family's doorstep. What do these details convey about the role of community in recovery from trauma?

It takes a village. We were extremely fortunate to have a very strong support system from family, friends, and others in the community. We found that people want to help because it makes them feel like they are part of the solution. The response we received has been overwhelming and, for us, profoundly helpful. You can’t do it alone. Lean on others around you. It will lighten your load.

You’ve had to completely relearn everyday skills, like using a toothbrush and playing tic-tac-toe. For a while, you were unable to speak. What have these challenges taught you that you think will resonate with readers?

Through many of the earlier challenges, I was not aware of my situation, and I had no idea of the extent of my deficits. If I had, I would have been terrified. Now I’m aware of the deficits I have, and they are frightening. At the same time, I manage them. I feel like I have no other choice but to push through and accept them. I also try to stay present and not imagine an entire life with these deficits. I try to envision myself as being healed, walking without any devices, moving my right arm freely, imagining my full vision coming back.

Caryn, as terrified as you were for Jenn as her mother, you also felt heartbroken for your husband, David. You sensed as a doctor he knew more about your daughter's condition than he was letting on. What did you learn about navigating your own pain while holding others’ pain at the same time?

From the day of the stroke, there were four of us, in addition to Jenn, who became an inseparable unit—myself, David, Jenn's sister, Amanda, and Mischa, Jenn's boyfriend at the time. We lived together, went to the hospital together each day, had dinner together, fielded calls from the neurosurgery ICU in the middle of the night. We witnessed the same awful events and shared the same terror, pain, occasional relief, occasional humor, and frustration. While sharing this common experience, however, we also had our own individual experiences. I thought of it as our being “alone-together.” We each processed the events through the lens of our own respective past experiences. I knew where David had come from, the prior things that had happened to him to make him the way he was. I was able to hold a place for him and his pain, and I used that to guide me on how to support him. This was the case with Mischa, Amanda, and ultimately with Jenn when her cognition returned to the point where she could understand what had happened.

None of you could have prepared for this journey, and you've had to learn to navigate the unknown every day. What do you want this book to communicate to readers about being in the present moment?

Being present keeps you grounded and in the here and now. You cannot undo the past, and you cannot operate from events that have not yet happened. You act only from what is in front of you at this moment. In certain respects, it's liberating to shed the worry over what comes next. Staying present permits you to deepen your connection with those around you and make those interactions more meaningful.

Some chapters begin with discharge notes from the hospital where Jenn was treated. They are raw and clinical. Why did you decide to include those?

We decided to include the hospital records because they offer the only truly objective perspective on the situation. Everyone's own past experience colored their interpretation of the events that were unfolding and so rendered each person’s personal accounts subjective. The hospital notes were unemotional and unbiased. It was important to us to create that contrast.

The book is structured as a series of diary entries from different family members and Jenn's then-boyfriend. Caryn, why did you decide this was the way to best tell the story?

From the time of Jenn’s stroke, there were four of us who were always together, going to the hospital daily, talking to doctors, navigating the events. When we started work on the book, we knew from the outset that we wanted to present the story from each of our perspectives, again highlighting the fact that we were each experiencing the present together, informed by our own unique past.

This experience seems to have changed how your family approaches spending time together. What do you want readers to take away from this story about being intentional with their time?

Being intentional with how you spend your time permits you to become more aware of your actions and how they may affect you and others around you. It permits deeper connection with those around you and makes you feel seen and supported. These connections and the emotional closeness that followed are what made our year so meaningful.