
NEW ORLEANS — As immigrants in southeastern Louisiana and Mississippi braced for this month’s U.S. Homeland Security operation, Cristiane Rosales-Fajardo received a panicked phone call from a friend.
The friend’s Guatemalan tenant, who didn’t know she was pregnant, had just delivered a premature baby in the New Orleans house. The parents lacked legal residency, and the mother refused to go to a hospital for fear of being detained by federal immigration officers.
“There’s blood everywhere, and the baby’s dead,” Rosales-Fajardo recalled her friend saying.
Rosales-Fajardo put on her sandals, grabbed surgical gloves, and rushed to the house.
Rosales-Fajardo, herself an immigrant from Brazil, is a grassroots organizer and advocate in the New Orleans East community, where many immigrants live. She has no formal medical training, but she has experience with delivering babies.
She scanned the room when she arrived. A 3-year-old child stood to one side while the mother sat on the edge of the bed. The father held their swaddled newborn son, who wasn’t breathing and was wrapped in blood-soaked towels.
“The baby was completely gray,” Rosales-Fajardo later said.
Rosales-Fajardo wiped fluid away from his small mouth and rubbed his back before performing tiny chest compressions and breathing air into his lungs.
She told the parents she had to call 911 to get the mother and newborn to a hospital for care. The baby was out, but the delivery wasn’t over.
“I assured her. I promised her that she was going to be safe,” Rosales-Fajardo said.
Fear hung over the room. Still, she made the call and continued performing CPR. Finally, the newborn revived and squirmed in Rosales-Fajardo’s arms. When the ambulance arrived, the mother tried to keep her husband from riding with her, terrified they would both be arrested. He went, anyway.
“These are hard-working people,” Rosales-Fajardo said. “All they do is work to provide for their family. But they were almost at risk of losing their child rather than call 911.”
Nearly two weeks into the Department of Homeland Security’s Operation Catahoula Crunch, which launched Dec. 3, health professionals and community advocates in Louisiana and Mississippi report that a significantly higher-than-usual number of immigrant patients have skipped health care appointments and experienced heightened stress levels.
According to a press release, DHS said it had arrested more than 250 people as of Dec. 11. Though federal officials say they’re targeting criminals, The Associated Press reported that most of the 38 people arrested in the first two days of the New Orleans operation had no criminal record.
Since President Donald Trump took office in January, immigrant families nationwide have become more likely to skip or delay health care, due in part to concerns about their legal status, according to a recent survey by KFF and The New York Times.
The survey found that nearly 8 in 10 immigrants likely to be living in the U.S. without legal permission say they’ve experienced negative health impacts this year, from increased anxiety to sleeping problems to worsened health conditions such as high blood pressure or diabetes. The federal immigration raids in California, Illinois, North Carolina, and now Louisiana and Mississippi add to the health care barriers that these families already face, including access to services, language barriers, lack of insurance, and high costs.
That hesitancy to receive even emergency care appears justified amid the ongoing raids. Hospitals and health facilities generally must allow federal agents in areas where the public is allowed, according to the American Civil Liberties Union. In California this year, federal agents have staked out hospital lobbies, shown up at community clinics, and guarded detainees in hospital rooms. Even driving to and from appointments poses a risk, as traffic stops are a popular place for immigration agents to make arrests.
University Medical Center nurse Terry Mogilles said that immigrants typically make up at least half the patients in her orthopedic trauma clinic in New Orleans, many of them with construction-related, bone-crushing injuries that require surgery. But now, Mogilles said, many of those patients aren’t coming in for follow-up appointments, despite the risk of infection.
“When we call, we can’t get through,” Mogilles said. “It is so upsetting because we have no idea what’s happening to them post-op.”
Federal officials said the Catahoula Crunch operation extends to southern Mississippi, though the bulk of the initial arrests have occurred in the Greater New Orleans area. Immigrant families throughout Mississippi are hunkering down in anticipation.
Michael Oropeza, the executive director of El Pueblo, a nonprofit serving low-income immigrant communities in Biloxi and Forest, said the organization has witnessed families delay care, cancel children’s checkups, and go without refilling medication.
“It’s not because they don’t value their health; it’s because they don’t feel safe,” Oropeza said. “When hospitals and clinics are no longer that safe place, people withdraw trust that took years to build up. It can disappear overnight.”
Maria, a Biloxi resident from Honduras, said, in Spanish, she and her two children have missed routine doctors’ appointments because they are “terrified” to leave the house amid an increased presence of federal immigration officers. Her husband, who is authorized to work in the U.S., was detained for two months this year.
Her children are U.S. citizens. They previously qualified for Medicaid, but Maria opted to disenroll them three years ago out of concern that using public benefits would jeopardize her family’s residency applications, she said. The family now pays for their children’s care out-of-pocket.
When it feels safe to attend doctors’ appointments again, Maria said, her priority will be seeking mental health care to address the stress her family has endured.
“I definitely need to see a doctor to get checked out, because I don’t feel well,” she said, describing her anxiety, depression, and insomnia.
In Louisiana, Marcela Hernandez of Familias Unidas en Acción, a nonprofit that provides direct aid to immigrants, said many of the families she works with live paycheck to paycheck. Sheltering at home and missing work only adds to the stress. Hernandez said she received 800 calls for food in two days from families afraid to leave home.
The federal operation in Louisiana and Mississippi could last more than two months, according to the AP. The longer it goes on, Hernandez said, the more she worries evictions will come next as people can’t pay rent, further traumatizing a community whose members often had to make difficult and dangerous journeys to flee hardships in their countries of origin to reach the U.S.
“You don’t leave your country knowing that you’re gonna get raped on the way just simply because you wanna come and meet Mickey Mouse,” she said.
Rosales-Fajardo, who runs a nonprofit called El Pueblo NOLA, said families tell her how children have started urinating on themselves due to stress and fear. Nationally, immigrants who are likely to lack legal status report that some of their children have had problems sleeping and that they’ve seen changes in school performance or behavior, according to the KFF and New York Times survey.
Community groups said they hope people step up locally to deliver food and hygiene products to immigrant homes, and that health care professionals provide more at-home or telehealth visits.
Like at other hospitals, UMC’s waiting rooms are considered public spaces, Mogilles noted. But the nurses union is calling for the hospital to create safe spaces for patients that federal agents can’t access and clearer policies to protect health care workers who shield patients. Post-op appointments can’t be done virtually, so patients need to feel safe enough to come in, Mogilles said.
Prenatal and postnatal care is also challenging to provide virtually, leaving the health of new and expecting mothers vulnerable, said Latona Giwa, the executive director of Repro TLC, a national sexual and reproductive health training nonprofit.
Since the Chicago immigration sweeps began in September, Giwa said, the clinics and health providers her organization works with have reported that 30% of patients had missed appointments. She said pharmacies saw a 40% drop in medication pickups.
“What we know about management of chronic conditions, especially in pregnancy, but in general, is that even missing one appointment can impact the trajectory of that condition and worsen a patient’s outcomes,” Giwa said.
In Louisiana, which already has poor maternal health outcomes, the fear of arrest could exacerbate the crisis worsened by the overturning of Roe v. Wade and threaten lives. She’s especially concerned about families with preterm babies in the neonatal intensive care unit, or NICU.
“Imagine your child is in the hospital, and so vulnerable, and you are terrified to go visit and care for your newborn infant because you’re worried about being deported,” Giwa said, noting that a newborn’s health partly relies on parental visits.
That’s the position the Guatemalan family in New Orleans is navigating.
On a recent day in December, Rosales-Fajardo acted as the family’s translator and advocate on their first visit to see their son in the NICU at a hospital on Lake Pontchartrain’s Northshore. Hospital staffers told the parents they would need to make the long and risky trip to the hospital repeatedly for at least a month to provide skin-to-skin contact and breast milk.
Rosales-Fajardo drove the parents, who were afraid to travel alone out of fear of being pulled over and arrested on a bridge. She said she’ll keep driving them as long as she needs to.
“Whenever they see a Hispanic driving or anything like that, that’s suspicious to them,” she said of federal agents.
But the baby is safe and healthy. And the parents have named Rosales-Fajardo his godmother.
Gwen Dilworth of Mississippi Today and Christiana Botic of Verite News contributed to this report.
This story was produced in collaboration with KFF Health News.
KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF — the independent source for health policy research, polling, and journalism.
This article first appeared on Verite News New Orleans and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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