In the heartland of America, a wave of fear and uncertainty is sweeping through immigrant communities as intensified federal immigration enforcement reshapes daily life. From Missouri to Chicago, undocumented mothers, educators, and their children are facing unprecedented challenges, as recent actions by U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and shifting policies under President Donald Trump’s administration have upended what were once considered safe havens.
Oscarina, an undocumented mother living in Kansas City, Missouri, embodies the struggle. She and her husband fled violence in Venezuela in 2023, embarking on a 2,000-mile journey in search of stability and a better future for their young daughter. Their hopes were soon dashed. Eight weeks into her pregnancy, Oscarina’s husband was detained by ICE while delivering a DoorDash order and deported back to Venezuela. The trauma of separation was compounded when Oscarina gave birth prematurely in December 2025, alone and exhausted, shuttling between the neonatal intensive care unit and her small apartment to care for her six-year-old daughter.
“All my pregnancy, I cried every single day,” Oscarina told The Independent through an interpreter. The absence of her husband was keenly felt, especially during those early days when newborns and mothers need support the most. “I live in fear every day,” she said. “It’s too heavy to carry being by myself with my daughter and my little boy and not having my husband because he will always care for us. The fact that he doesn’t get to be with us, everything changed for us.”
Oscarina’s story is not unique. Across Missouri, community health workers, doulas, and nonprofit organizations report a surge in anxiety and isolation among undocumented mothers. Many are too afraid to seek medical care, missing crucial prenatal appointments, WIC benefits, or even withdrawing children from school. The reason? A visible and aggressive ICE presence, which has grown since President Trump returned to office in January 2025. According to The Independent, ICE agents have been seen arresting parents at school drop-offs and even reportedly waiting outside maternity wards—places that, under previous administrations, were considered off-limits to enforcement.
“This is the worst that I’ve seen in many, many years,” Eunice Cho, senior counsel at the ACLU National Prison Project, told The Independent. Although policies protecting pregnant women from ICE detention remain on the books, the ACLU uncovered several examples in 2025 of pregnant women detained or miscarrying in federal detention centers. “The trauma it has on children and parents and families is heartbreaking,” Cho said. “And it’s completely unnecessary. These are families that have been living and working and contributing to our communities, often for years or decades.”
For those working on the front lines, the toll is palpable. Neysha Reyes Cruz, a bilingual doula based in Missouri, has supported nearly 90 women through pregnancy and postpartum over the past three years—about 70 of whom were undocumented. In 2025 alone, she stood in as the support person for half a dozen women who gave birth after a close family member was deported. The stress is taking a toll on maternal and infant health: “Of the past 10 births I’ve attended, five were babies born prematurely,” Reyes Cruz told The Independent. She attributes this trend, at least in part, to the elevated stress these families endure due to constant ICE threats.
Reyes Cruz’s work now extends beyond birth support. She fields desperate messages from mothers too afraid to leave their homes, delivers formula and baby supplies herself, and hosts virtual childbirth classes because families fear driving to her in person. Some mothers have withdrawn their children from school and left the country before the school year ended. Others have asked Reyes Cruz to be the designated guardian for their babies in case they are detained. “As a doula, I’m being pushed to support this community because they don’t feel safe with anyone else,” she said.
Legal aid groups and nonprofit organizations are also stepping in, helping parents establish custody plans for their children and obtain birth certificates to facilitate self-deportation. Monica, another undocumented mother in Kansas City, is preparing to self-deport back to Chile with her six-month-old son after her husband was deported following a domestic violence incident. “Life got more difficult for me,” Monica told The Independent through an interpreter. She now delivers for DoorDash, constantly fearing an encounter with ICE. “People need to be strong emotionally to come over to the United States,” Monica said. “Because even though the United States is a very great country full of opportunities, it can be very emotionally draining to be here with this situation.”
Tim Rudolph, a St. Louis-based immigration attorney, cautions that self-deportation can have lasting consequences. “Even though the government is saying ‘if you leave you can come back the right way, we’ll let you do it,’ that’s not often the case,” he told The Independent. “That tends to be what they say to get people out of the country, and a lot of times you’ll be barred from returning.”
While Missouri families grapple with these realities, a separate but related incident in Chicago has drawn national attention. On November 26, 2025, two ICE agents arrested Diana Patricia Santillana Galeano, a day care teacher, inside Rayito de Sol Spanish Immersion Early Learning Center during the busiest drop-off time. The arrest, witnessed by children and families, was condemned by local leaders as traumatizing and inhumane. “This morning ICE agents followed a teacher into the facility without a warrant and abducted her in front of her students,” Rep. Mike Quigley said at a news conference, calling the incident a “complete lack of humanity.”
The Department of Homeland Security disputed some of these claims, stating that officers attempted a traffic stop on a vehicle registered to Galeano, but the driver fled, leading both occupants to run into the daycare and attempt to barricade themselves inside. According to DHS, Galeano was arrested in the vestibule and lied about her identity. DHS also clarified that Galeano entered the U.S. illegally in 2023 and that work authorization “does NOT confer any type of legal status to be in the US.”
The incident is part of “Operation Midway Blitz,” a campaign launched in September 2025 under President Trump’s nationwide enforcement agenda. The aggressive tactics have sparked outrage in Chicago, with Rep. Delia Ramirez vowing to pursue a federal review. “What happened today is despicable,” Ramirez said, noting that teachers hid inside the center, fearing for their lives. Maria Guzman, a parent and day care representative, called the arrest an act of “domestic terrorism.”
Amid the political and legal battles, the human cost is mounting. Laura Brandt, director of Pregnancy Help Center of South County in St. Louis, summed up the dilemma: “Regardless of what your opinions are on a policy level, on a personal level, every human being is deserving of dignity and compassion and care.”
As the debate over immigration enforcement intensifies, the stories of Oscarina, Monica, Galeano, and countless others serve as a stark reminder of the everyday realities faced by undocumented families—realities marked by fear, resilience, and hope for a safer tomorrow, even as the path forward remains uncertain.
