These investments and policy shifts have disrupted the child care workforce nationwide, heightening fear and instability among providers. One out of three caregivers and child care providers of young children have reported noticing the impact of immigration enforcement activities in their community, according to the RAPID Survey Project at the Stanford Center on Early Childhood. Some have left the field altogether.
A recent study conducted by economists Chris Herbst and Erdal Tekin found that increased arrests by federal immigration officers in the first six months of the Trump administration are associated with 39,000 immigrant child care providers leaving the workforce. It also found that, as a result of the increased arrests and shrinking child care workforce, 77,000 American-born mothers also left the workforce.
Below are the stories of five immigrant women providing home-based care for relatives and neighbors. Located in California, Colorado, Illinois and Texas, they all reported that intensified immigration enforcement has disrupted their work, with ripple effects on the children and families they serve.
Some shared that the young children they care for have expressed fear that their parents could be arrested. Some said they had to change their routines to limit their time in public spaces, and that parents were doing the same. Others said parents stopped taking their older kids to school.
These vignettes — which draw from interviews conducted in Spanish that have been translated and edited for clarity — offer insight into the experiences of immigrants caring for our nation’s youngest children.
A. Hernandez
Home State: Illinois
Place of birth: Mexico
Number of years providing child care: 6
Still providing child care: Yes
Number of children cared for 2
After visiting family in the U.S. in 1991 when she was 16 years old, A. Hernandez fell in love with Chicago and decided to stay. She started working at a local restaurant, where she met her husband. She married at 17, had four children and eventually became a stay-at-home mom.
Her children are now adults, and she provides child care for their kids. It’s not uncommon: two in five working parents rely on a grandmother for child care.
But after President Trump was inaugurated, Hernandez said she put cardboard on her windows so no one could see inside and barely left the house.
When she could no longer bring her grandson to and from preschool, his parents changed their work schedules as best they could to account for the disruption in child care. They eventually enrolled their son in a busing program, but the process took over a month, she said. On the days they could not adjust their work schedules, they opted for him to stay home with Hernandez. He missed over a month of school, and a number of sessions with his speech therapist.
“It affected him a lot. Before, he was starting to speak and sing. He was more conversational,” Hernandez said. “Now, he struggles. His communication is more sounds and gestures. He missed over a month of his therapies, and it shows.”
Hernandez said she’s been anxious for months. Once her grandson was enrolled in the busing program, she decided she could pick him up at the bus stop. She began returning to her routine, but said she constantly felt “like someone was following her.”
Then, in November 2025, a Chicago child care provider was detained at an early learning center on the same street where Hernandez’s daughter works. It happened while children were being dropped off.
Federal immigration agents chased a day care worker into Rayito de Sol, the Chicago center where she works, and dragged her out in front of children before arresting her. The November incident is one of many fueling this week’s demands to keep agents away from Head Start, child care and pre-K classrooms. (Photo by Joshua Lott/The Washington Post via Getty Images)
Hernandez recalled hearing the news. The child care provider “was doing something good, working with children. Now we have to explain this to children, that we’re all at risk,” she said.
Worried for their safety, Hernandez and her husband opened a naturalization case in November with the hope of gaining U.S. citizenship. The legal proceedings are expensive, so to help make ends meet, Hernandez has picked up an overnight shift at a fast food chain. (She is typically paid $75 a week to care for her grandchildren.)
Hernandez has tried her best to shield her grandchildren from the increased presence of immigration officers in their neighborhood. “My eldest grandson saw officers near his school,” she said. When he told her about it, he said he was afraid they were coming to take him. “Their uniforms are green. He said that the ‘green men’ were coming to take children in black vans. I told him, ‘No, they won’t take you.’”
Trump’s Immigration Crackdown Is Harming Young Children and Their Caregivers
Carmela Enriquez
Home State: Colorado
Place of birth: Mexico
Number of years providing child care: 20
Still providing child care: Yes
Number of children cared for: 4
In 2001, Carmela Enriquez came to the United States from Mexico, joining her family in Colorado. She was 15 years old, and enrolled in a local high school as a ninth grader. In 11th grade, she was warned that she would not have access to federal financial aid because, at the time, she was an undocumented immigrant.
Knowing that her family wouldn’t be able to help cover the cost of college, she dropped out of high school. “I was sad, because I always liked school,” said Enriquez.
In 2004, Enriquez got married and the next year, she gave birth to her first son. Soon after, her cousin approached her about caring for his infant, who was around the same age as her son. He liked the idea of his baby being watched by someone in the family while he was at work. Since then, different family members have relied on Enriquez for child care. Today, she cares for four of her nephews, in addition to her two youngest children, who are 2 and 6 years old.
Enriquez said she changed a number of daily routines immediately after Trump came back into office. She typically picked up her four nephews from her sister’s house, but assuming there would be more immigration officers stationed at high-traffic roads, she changed her route.
“I tried not to drive on busy streets,” she said. “But when it snows in Colorado, I noticed they weren’t removing the snow as fast on the roads I traveled on as on the main streets. I told myself I had to stop my fear of officers, because I was also scared of being in a car accident.”
A few months later, Enriquez began volunteering for a local group that alerted community members if federal immigration officers were nearby. Her eldest child, now in college, warned his mother not to participate.
“He said, ‘No, don’t go. You shouldn’t go outside. If you need something from the market, I’ll go,’” Enriquez recalled. “It makes me sad that my children, born here, are scared.”
A woman is arrested by police during a protest against Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) on June 10, 2025 in Denver, Colorado. (Michael Ciaglo/Getty)
Enriquez said she has witnessed people get arrested by immigration officers, and fear has swept across the community. “Last September, there was a local celebration for child care providers. There was food, flowers. Only three providers, myself included, showed up,” said Enriquez. “There had been immigration officers seen on a nearby street. I couldn’t tell providers to come anyway. I can’t take away their fear.”
“We are essential workers. We care for children whose parents work in agriculture, dairy farms, food transport,” said Enriquez. “I’m crying because I see so many kind providers, and the quality care they give to children. There’s people saying this country is not ours, and that if [immigration] officers mistreat us, we deserve it. But no one deserves to be treated that way.”
E. Hernandez
Home State: Texas
Place of birth: Mexico
Number of years providing child care: 12
Still providing child care: Yes
Number of children cared for: 7
E. Hernandez, A. Hernandez’s sister, moved to Texas from Mexico with her husband in 2013, when he relocated for work. Then five months pregnant, she became friendly with a neighbor, who mentioned she could not find before- and after- school care for her 7-year-old son.
“It started as a favor. [The neighbor] said it would be difficult to leave her son with someone she didn’t know,” said Hernandez, who requested we refer to her by her first initial and last name in order to protect her safety. “I said I’d take care of him. I’d drop him off at school, pick him up, and care for him until she came home.”
Hernandez cared for her neighbor’s son until the family moved 15 months later.
Over the past 13 years, Hernandez has cared for more than a dozen children through a variety of arrangements — some steady, others occasional. She began by watching the children of her husband’s coworkers and, once her eldest started school, connected with local parents in need of after-school care.
Today, Hernandez looks after her own three children and provides care for others as needed. She regularly supports one family during school breaks and, in health emergencies, steps in for another family, sometimes caring for all five of their children — four of whom she said are immunocompromised.
“It’s a favor,” Hernandez said. “These are children who are ill, so I always say yes — even if it’s two in the morning.”
Such flexible, around-the-clock care is especially common among home-based providers. At some point, one in three children requires care during nontraditional hours.
Last year, Hernandez was advised by a local parent to pursue a child care license so she could provide long-term care to more families. (In Texas, child care providers are exempt from a license if they do not care for more than one unrelated child or sibling group.)
“I was so excited. I’ve always loved children, so I decided to call the local agency,” said Hernandez. When asked over the phone to provide her Social Security Number, Hernandez specified she had an Individual Taxpayer Identification Number (ITIN). “The woman on the phone said that Texas does not give child care licenses to people without a Social Security Number,” Hernandez said.
Though she’s been unable to get licensed, she continues to care for children. “I do it for the good of the community, for the good of our children,” she said.
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Blanca Luna
Home State: California
Place of birth: Mexico
Number of years providing child care: 5
Still providing child care: Yes
Number of children cared for: 3
Blanca Luna immigrated to California from Mexico in 2016, when she was 24 years old. She arrived with her then 15-month-old daughter in order to join her husband in the U.S.
She now has two children, 12 and 9 years old. As a stay-at-home mom, Luna began to meet local parents when her youngest son started kindergarten in 2020.
“In our town, many parents work in agricultural fields. Agricultural workers continued to work during the pandemic [stay-at-home orders], and they needed child care because many centers closed,” said Luna. “I wanted to help because they couldn’t stop working. I started providing child care, even if it was an hour or two … If it were me who needed help, I would want someone to help me. I did it out of love, community.”
Luna has continued to provide child care to local families, usually when school is closed for holidays. She provides regular child care on weekdays to a 3-year-old girl, and is compensated between $300 and $400 a month. She also occasionally provides before- and after- school care for two other children. One of those families pays her $25 per day. The other doesn’t pay her at all.
A woman holds a sign during a press event held by family members of people detained by ICE on June 9, 2025 in Los Angeles, California. (Jim Vondruska/Getty)
Over the past few months, Luna said she has been approached by two local parents who do not have American citizenship about whether she would take care of their children if they were arrested by immigration officers. “I don’t have the heart to say no. But it is a concern for me,” she said. “Taking care of a child needs money, and I don’t have an income. Only my husband does.”
Those fears weigh heavily on the children in her care, Luna said, particularly their mental health. The threat of family separation creates instability, especially when “children see parents being beaten, mistreated and humiliated.”
Luna said there are efforts to support families in her community, but they fall short.
“I’ve seen resources like food banks. That’s good. But people can’t pay rent with food,” she said. “I think people want to go to work safely and build a better future.”
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Yanet Martinez
Home State: California
Place of birth: El Salvador
Number of years providing child care: 17
Still providing child care: Yes
Number of children cared for: 6
Yanet Martinez immigrated to the U.S. 17 years ago, fleeing domestic violence in her home in El Salvador. Her five children stayed behind.
In 2019, Martinez said she qualified for U nonimmigrant status — a program for victims of criminal activity — that has since changed to a T nonimmigrant status, a program for victims of trafficking.
She found her way to Los Angeles and picked up a series of odd jobs. Today, she works at a local community center as a promotora, a Spanish term similar to a community liaison or resource navigator. She’s also a local child care provider.
Four of her children have immigrated to the U.S. She has nine grandchildren, and cares for six of them. She also occasionally cares for her neighbor’s children.
Last July, federal immigration officers and state troopers arrived at a local park on horseback and in armored vehicles in the neighborhood where Martinez lives. One of her children witnessed the raid.
“My daughter was on the way to work, but she ran back inside. I had a doctor’s appointment, and I chose not to go. It was chaos. I saw tanks — tanks I haven’t seen since I was a girl during the [Salvadoran Civil] war,” said Martinez. “Another time, one of my sons saw federal agents at a parking lot close to his job. He managed to see them in time and hid, but six of his coworkers didn’t make it to their cars. The agents pushed them to the ground, beat them and took them away.”
Despite fearing for her safety, Martinez continues caring for her grandchildren, bringing them to and from school. On a local bus, in transit to pick up one of them, Martinez said, “I’m still working in the community. I’m still providing care for my grandchildren. I do it with fear, with precaution. But I do it.”
Reporting for this article was supported by New America’s Better Life Lab Story Fellowship.
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