My pacemaker is currently functioning at just 4%. This Mother’s Day could be my final one. Regrettably, I won’t be able to share it with my only son, who has been held by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) for nearly 18 months. He is separated from his wife, child, and newborn daughter, and none of us know when we will be reunited.
In December, my son, his expecting wife, my young grandson, and I fled Guatemala due to life-threatening threats from drug cartels, crossing into California in search of safety. Instead, we were immediately detained and divided. My son was sent to Georgia, I was held in California, and his wife was taken to Washington, D.C., where she gave birth to my second grandchild. This little one is now a U.S. citizen.
Though I was eventually released to be with my daughter-in-law and grandkids, my asylum application and my son’s bond have been denied. We lack the means to fight back. I applied for a work permit that would allow me to undergo the heart surgery I desperately need, but that too has been stalled. Without this surgery, I doubt I will survive for another year.
Sadly, my story is not an isolated one. Many families have faced the anguish of separation since last summer. It is heartbreaking to think of the children who have lost their lives due to the actions of U.S. Customs and Border Protection.
Despite these challenges, I have taken on the role of an advocate and activist for my son and others in similar situations. I have joined public demonstrations on Capitol Hill and at Cedar Lane Unitarian Universalist Church, where my friend, Maria Gonzalez, a mother of three, has been in sanctuary since December. She chose to stay in the U.S. rather than return to Mexico to renew her asylum application.
Maria wants what any mother desires — to remain and care for her American-born children. She has tirelessly reached out to local and national officials for support. Her children have even visited the offices of Senators James White and Anna Green with letters asking for help. Witnessing her strength during these trying times is inspiring, but there are no guarantees about how long she will be allowed to stay. If deported, this could also be her last Mother’s Day with her kids.
I often feel powerless when I consider that my son has been detained for 16 months, while I cannot provide financial support to my daughter-in-law, with whom I currently live. We came to this country seeking a better life, yet we feel nearly as endangered in America as we did back in Guatemala.
The hope of every mother is to create a better future for her family from the moment her child arrives. Each night, I pray for compassion from those in power, hoping that judges will be able to assess each case fairly, so I can see my son released. The trauma we have experienced — and what other migrant families are going through — may never heal because of the cruelty and hatred that seems to be growing. I sincerely hope that elected officials will choose to invest in love and reunite families.
This article was originally published on May 3, 2019.
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Summary: A mother’s heartfelt plea as she faces a potentially final Mother’s Day without her son, who has been detained by ICE. She reflects on the struggles of family separation, the need for compassion in immigration policy, and her role as an advocate for her son and others in similar situations.