(Lisa Schiltz teaches law at the University of St. Thomas. A graduate of Yale and Columbia, she grew up in Germany. She has four children. Her son Peter has a dual diagnosis of Down’s Syndrome and pervasive development disorder, a diagnosis on the autism spectrum.)

Kristen: Are you a cradle Catholic?
Lisa: Both my parents were Catholics of German and Polish descent. There were six kids and we went to Mass every Sunday and mother took us to stations during Lent. The faith was a very natural part of growing up.

My father worked as a civilian for the army after World War II in Germany. To be an American there was interesting. I got a little taste of both cultures: on base, there was very traditional parish life, while the German church in our village was older and prettier but very empty and dry.

Kristen: When did you return to the states? 
Lisa:  When I went to college, I got hooked very early by the Catholic community at Yale. Those were some strong faith years for me. St. Thomas More House there was not my primary social group; but I had my Catholic friends.

At Columbia Law School, there were a couple of us who would see each other at Mass and scuttle back to the campus, emerging from the catacombs to resume our daily life. We didn’t talk much, and yet, the knowledge that others prayed was helpful.

Kristen: Did you meet your husband in law school?
Lisa: No, I practiced law for a year in Washington, DC, where I met my husband. We both were in private practice until we started teaching at Notre Dame.

Kristen: Was it difficult to make “room” for a family in your professional life?

Lisa: Every one of the choices you make as a mom involves balancing and cutting and pasting. It is unfortunate that we don’t have a system of work that permits women to focus on their family while at the same time keeping  a presence in the world. Notre Dame offered a phenomenal part-time tenure track option, perfect for the early years of motherhood.
 
Kristen: So, you had just made a transition to teaching when you became pregnant with Peter? 
Lisa: Actually, I was pregnant when we were trying to decide whether to make the transition to teaching.

Kristen: Tell me about your pregnancy.

Lisa: My experience is atypical because I chose a doctor ob-gyn who I had heard from a friend didn’t do abortions. Even so, there were some  interesting things.  For one,  the doctor called me on vacation with the news that my “triple screen” blood test indicated a high probability of Down’s Syndrome. She tracked me down, feeling we should know right away, even though she knew abortion was not an option for us.

The next step was a level three ultrasound, which they wanted to schedule quickly, but we were in no hurry. The ultrasound started off with everyone grim and quiet. Pete looked fine in my womb; and they came to the conclusion that he didn’t have Down’s Syndrome. So, then they slowly began acting normal, offering to print out pictures of the baby for us, even calling him a baby.

The only way you can know for sure is amniocentesis. For some reason I felt I should do it. Even though one of my brothers  is mentally retarded,  when we got that news, it was upsetting. For a week I couldn’t even put my hands on my belly. I was thinking, “Who is this stranger in me? This is it. My life is going to end!”

Kristen: Well, it is a very different prognosis. Perhaps it would be more strange not to be upset?
Lisa: Well, yes. Even being pro-life, I now can understand the pressure women feel when faced with a difficult diagnosis. Some of the physical repulsion that I felt was fear, that everything in my life would have to be changed. But that wasn’t true.   At the same time, though, I can understand the impulse you can’t help but feel to “make this  go away.”

We went to Lourdes, and I went into the water rubbing my belly.  I felt an incredible sense of community with the whole world and the people who were suffering in so many ways. I didn’t need Pete to be cured at that point. I just wanted him to be safe, and happy.

Kristen:  So, did anything change?
Lisa: Of course!  I think if I hadn’t had Pete, there would be more of a sense that I created my kids. Petey is so clearly a mystery and a gift. I can understand my other kids; they speak my language. But he doesn’t speak. And so I gained a stronger awareness that life is a gift. When I had my youngest daughter about five years after Pete, she progressed normally. It was such a miracle to see how she learned it all so naturally.

Kristen: And you are still able to work?
Lisa: Yes. Sometimes I have wondered if I should quit. The thing that keeps me working, is to be a witness to some young woman or man. They can see me still teaching, and know that despite challenges, my life didn’t end. Being public about your life is uncomfortable, and yet,  you don’t know what part of it will make a difference.

It’s not what we do, but that we do it. And yet it all has to be in context. Once at an academic meeting, philosopher Laura Garcia talked about how she worked so hard on an article, and strained every part of her brain to make it as close to perfect as possible. And then she realized that to God, that intellectual product is like the pictures that our kids draw and we put on the refrigerator! To God, our efforts are crude, but he loves them because we belong to Him.

Kristen: Oh, I love that! His love for us isn’t condescending, but truly nurturing.

Lisa: Exactly! The reason you love is not because of someone’s brain. The secret that Pete and I keep trying to articulate is that there is a sacramentality, a direct line to the supernatural in persons with disabilities. It’s easier to see when communication is an issue, as it is for Pete because he also has autism. You have to figure out a lot by other means, and that reminds you of the mystery of life. All of us are reaching for God. He is not intelligible in the terms that we  usually use to filter ideas.

We think we know God. We think that He walks and talks and looks like us, but that’s not all of Him – part of Him is also manifested in the people who are in wheelchairs or are disfigured in some way The less accessible part of  God, that’s the classical Jesus…that’s what I learned from the gift of my son, Peter.