Holding On to Possibility: One Mother’s Fight for Her Family’s Future

Alexa arrived at the immigration office in San Francisco with her partner and their two-year-old son on July 11, 2025. They were simply updating their address, a routine administrative task meant to keep them in good standing. 

But that day, everything changed. Immigration officers detained her partner without explanation. Within hours, Alexa went from being part of a family of three to being the sole provider and caregiver for her young son—alone in a country that suddenly felt much less safe.

Across the country, hundreds of thousands of families are living versions of this same rupture. Yet even in the face of cruel policies and uncertainty, they continue moving forward. Like Alexa, many find ways to rebuild, often with the support of their communities and programs like ALMA.

Guided by Love & Possibility

Alexa was born in a small town in Venezuela. She grew up close to her mother and grandmother and holds fond memories of the life they shared. But as she got older, she began seeing how limited her opportunities were.

Food became expensive and scarce. Stable jobs disappeared. After gang violence targeted her family, leaving felt less like a choice and more like a necessity.

When her son was born, what should have been a moment of joy became an emergency. Complications during delivery, combined with the lack of basic resources at hospitals in Venezuela, meant he had to be transferred to a hospital in Colombia.

Alexa’s son spent several weeks in the NICU in Colombia. She and her partner remained by his side, hoping he would pull through. It was during those long, difficult days and nights that something became clear to both of them. They could not return to Venezuela.

Alexa, her partner of 10 years, and their newborn son made the dangerous journey north with one clear purpose: to give their son opportunities they never had. Alexa shares:

“[I did it] for my son, I have a two-year-old… I didn’t have an opportunity to get ahead, to study my career.”

Detained Without an Explanation

Alexa and her partner moved to a new home in July 2025. To stay in good standing with USCIS, Alexa, her partner, and their son went to the San Francisco field office to update their address.

They had heard stories of people being detained without warning after showing up to immigration appointments, and they feared the same could happen to them. Still, they went because they did not want to compromise their pending asylum case. 

After hours of waiting in line to speak with someone, they were finally called into an office. It was there that one of their worst fears became reality. Immigration officers handcuffed Alexa’s partner without explanation. In front of her, and in front of their son, immigration officers took him away. 

Alexa stood in shock. What had just happened? What could she do? What would this mean for her son? No one at the office offered answers or resources. For days, she heard nothing.

When Alexa finally heard from her partner, what he shared only deepened her worry. He told her immigration officials kept him in handcuffs for days, so tight his hands went numb and blistered, and that the food in the detention center was rotten. What stayed with him most was how many children were there alongside him, all living through the same harrowing conditions.

When Everything Fell on Her Shoulders

After her partner’s detention, Alexa found herself responsible for everything. Rent. Groceries. Childcare. Gas. Car payments. Finding legal aid. And covering a phone bill that couldn’t lapse because immigration requires her to check in through an app, SMARTLink. “I have to upload a picture every Monday. Every single one. So that’s stressful too—very stressful,” she says. 

Alexa lost 75% of her household income when her partner was detained. The financial strain was immediate, and she took on multiple jobs to make ends meet. She sold lunches, styled hair and did nails for neighbors and friends, and began working for DoorDash. Alexa was not willing to give up. 

Unable to afford childcare, Alexa turned to DoorDash for flexible work that allows her to bring her two-year-old son along. She often earns below $100 a day, even when working past midnight. Meanwhile, expenses keep piling up: $1,300 in rent, $250 for the car that makes her work possible, and the rising costs of food and gas.

Providing for herself and her child became all-consuming. She couldn’t afford to miss a day of work. She couldn’t afford to get sick. She couldn’t afford a moment to just breathe.

Moved by Purpose

Compounding the financial strain was the emotional toll of her partner’s deportation. There were days when Alexa wouldn’t eat and weeks when she didn’t speak to others. She carried the pain on her own, unwilling to burden her family members, who were also struggling to make ends meet and facing similar fears of detention and deportation.

“When I feel pain, I carry it on my own.”

For her two-year-old son, who was inseparable from his father, the detention was especially devastating. He grew thinner and more rebellious. He asked for his dad during meals and before bed. Each time, it reminded Alexa of an absence she could not fill and served as evidence of the emotional toll of a cruel immigration system.

As the weight of it all grew heavier, Alexa began experiencing panic attacks that left her trembling and unable to sleep. She found a psychologist. 

The sessions with the psychologist helped Alexa feel less alone and more grounded. But what sustains her most, she says, is reminding herself of her purpose: building a more secure and prosperous future for her son. At the same time, Alexa holds onto everything she has overcome to get here, reminding herself that she has already come so far and that the life she imagines is still within reach.

“I feel proud to be here because not everyone who tried to get here made it.”

A Moment to Breathe

Then a new path opened. One evening, Alexa decided to attend a Faith in Action community event. The event brought together families navigating the aftermath of the detention and deportation of loved ones. There, she met Doris, a MAF program manager, who told her about ALMA.

Alexa was skeptical of the program at first. She had never received help like this before, and she didn’t know anyone who had. But hearing about it at a community event she trusted gave her the confidence to apply.

Just a few days after submitting her application, she received a call letting her know her grant was on its way. In that moment, Alexa felt a sense of relief she hadn’t experienced since her partner’s detention.

ALMA grants give families the flexibility to use the funds in the ways that best meet their needs. For Alexa, receiving the grant meant she could pay her rent on time, replace the shoes and clothes her two-year-old son had outgrown, and buy the groceries they needed. 

For the first time in a long while, Alexa had space to process everything she had been carrying, without the constant uncertainty of how she would provide for herself and her son in the weeks ahead.

Alexa’s Message to Others: “No Se Rindan”

When asked what she would say to other families facing similar circumstances, Alexa doesn’t hesitate:

“Don’t give up. Because this country is full of opportunities.”

She encourages others to build community, to enroll their children in school, to keep working even when it feels impossible:

“When you want something, you make it happen…I don’t know where I get it from, but I do it. And that’s what matters,” she reflects.

Alexa’s words reflect the way she lives: with persistence, resourcefulness, and an unwavering belief in what’s possible. She dreams of opening her own beauty business. She imagines her own home and pictures financial stability, safety, and opportunity for her son. Alexa builds toward this future every day, and reminds herself of its possibility.

“I see [my future] every day in my mind,” she says. “If you believe it, you can make it happen.”

Stand With Families Like Alexa’s

Alexa’s story is one of determination, but it is not one she should have to carry alone. Across our communities, parents are doing everything they can to provide, to protect, and to build a future for their children—often while navigating anxieties and circumstances no one should face.

These families are not far away. They are our neighbors, our colleagues, the parents of our children’s classmates. 

This is why organizations like MAF exist. Not to negate the strength and determination families already carry, but to stand alongside them. To offer timely, flexible support rooted in trust and dignity. To ensure that when moments of crisis come, families are met with the resources and community they need to keep building forward.

A contribution to the ALMA Fund is a statement of belief: that every family deserves dignity, and that communities can show up when systems fail to.