Undocumented immigrant parents are bracing for the possibility that they may be separated from their children if they are deported.
BOUND BROOK -- She looked down a long table of parents who, like her, had reached a terrifying consensus: one day they may be forcibly separated from their children.
The 37-year-old dabbed a tissue across her lightly-freckled face as she asked questions with no easy answers -- would she be deported to Colombia or Venezuela, where she holds dual citizenship? Would her U.S.-born children join her in a country with food shortages or violence? Should they stay in the U.S.?
"My babies, they can't go back to Venezuela," said the woman NJ Advance Media is calling "Veronica," in almost a whisper, to a group of other undocumented immigrants gathered on a recent Saturday in Bound Brook to discuss their legal options under the new president.
The woman said she did not want her real name to be used because she is an unauthorized immigrant.
"I don't know what to do. It's hard," the soft-spoken woman said in Spanish. "Your kids, they are the most precious thing you have in this world."
Undocumented immigrant parents in New Jersey and across the country are desperately seeking solutions and legal protections for their U.S.-born children who might be left behind should they be deported, according to immigration advocates. And increasingly, some are considering the extraordinary step of signing power of attorney documents that would give friends or relatives the ability to make decisions on behalf of their children if they are no longer here.
"That's huge," said Emily Perez, a licensed social worker in Newark. "That is their family system, that is who they know, that is their identity."
Other parents are obtaining U.S. passports or dual nationality for their children so they can reunite with their deported parents and have rights to schooling and health care.
The Trump Administration's push to target of a wider group of undocumented immigrants for removal is threatening to leave behind a tangled mess of custody battles, family separation and legal questions, immigrant advocates say.
"These cases are all complicated," said Joyce Phipps, an attorney and director of Casa de Esperanza, who has been hosting power of attorney workshops. She said the White House's new policies "haven't taken anything into account ... where are these kids going to go?"
Phipps said separating families with different immigration statuses - and sometimes different nationalities -- is raising a slew of knotty questions.
"We're not just talking about Mexico, we're talking about all countries and U.S. citizen children who are going to be split up," she said.
In 2014, there were 4.7 million U.S.-born children under the age of 18 living with undocumented immigrant parents, according to the latest data from the Pew Research Center. An estimated 11 million undocumented immigrants live in the U.S. with about 500,000 in New Jersey, according to the Migration Policy Institute.
There's no numbers on how many undocumented immigrants have signed power of attorney documents but advocates say they're encouraging all families to have a plan.
"Because some of the enforcement priorities have changed I think that the level of concern among parents, undocumented parents who may have children who are U.S. citizens are at all time high," said Randi Mandelbaum, professor of law at Rutgers Law School and director of the child advocacy clinic. "People are concerned."
Power of attorney
About 16 parents cramped into the second-floor office of Casa de Esperanza on a recent rainy Saturday. They carefully jotted down notes on colorful sheets of paper as Phipps explained what a power of attorney document could do.
"It is temporary custody, it is not adoption," she said. The legal document allows another person to care for their children for up to six months -- make travel arrangements, health care decisions, pick up a child at school -- in case they are separated.
The Rutgers Child Advocacy Clinic in conjunction with other attorneys drafted a power of attorney document to aid parents facing deportation.
But it was clear from the two hour workshop, no case was the same.
One woman from Guatemala said her four-year-old son had his father's last name but the dad had been deported and she could not locate him to hand over full custody of the child.
Another woman from El Salvador asked how parents could afford to fly their kids from the U.S. if they are deported and working lower-paying jobs in another country?
"On the one hand it is a relatively simple document but on the other hand, nothing when you're talking about children is very simple," Mandelbaum said.
She said attorneys were trying to combat fraud from notaries who could be overcharging to witnesses signatures on power of attorney documents. Attorneys may charge for their services but notaries cannot charge more than $2.50.
Some libraries and nonprofits, like Ironbound Community Corporation (ICC) in Newark, are offering the services for free.
On this recent Saturday, parents gave each other advice, hugs and shared their stories of fear.
"We're all scared, whenever the doorbell rings, my kids jump," said a woman as she furrowed her brows behind her purple glasses.
"The reality is there are no simple fixes to this, these are completely rational fears that kids and families are having," said Michael MacKenzie, chancellor scholar for child well-being at Rutgers University.
"How do we talk to kids about things that are really scary, how do parents do that when they are really scared themselves?" he said. "There's not a lot of guidance in how to do that particularly in this topic."
'This has become reality'
Ricardo Arias, 42, a pastor at First Christian Assembly in Plainfield, said two families in his congregation had asked him to care for their children in case they are deported.
Arias already has four children of his own but said he couldn't say no.
"This is a very high responsibility for anyone," said Arias, who is also a paralegal at Casa de Esperanza. "You are liable, you are responsible for anything that happens to this kid."
Perez, a social worker in Newark, says the idea of having to place your children in someone else's care -- even temporarily -- can take a huge emotional toll.
"It's pretty extraordinary due to the fact this has become a reality for a lot of families in a very short time," said Perez, 36, who will soon head the ICC Family Success Center. "It's not just going to cause damage to that child in the moment, it's going to be a ripple effect as they grow."
She said for parents, it can be devastating. "They are going to be worried about their children's welfare, did I leave them with the right person?"
"The accumulation of adversity into early childhood can last a lifetime," MacKenzie said. "These aren't 'the kid is going to be sad for a little while,' these are lasting impacts, and these are American citizens."
U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials told NJ Advance Media the agency strives to ensure detention and removal actions "do not unnecessarily disrupt the parental rights of alien parents and legal guardians of minor children."
"For parents who are ordered removed, it is their decision whether or not to relocate their children with them," officials said. "If parents choose to have their U.S. citizen child(ren) accompany them, ICE accommodates, to the extent practicable, the parents' efforts to make provisions for their child(ren)."
Where to go
Veronica said she left Venezuela last year after she couldn't get food to feed her one-year-old daughter. She remembers getting in line at 2 a.m. to wait hours for milk only to be turned away at the door when she showed her daughter's U.S. birth certificate.
"I had no rights to anything, not even diapers. The pediatrician told me to get my daughter out before she dies," Veronica said, adding that she had her daughter in the U.S. because she fell and the doctors recommended she not fly back to give birth. "It's a country that doesn't have the humane conditions for my daughters to be there."
Venezuela is struggling with a deep economic crisis and a worsening food shortage. Reports from the country say its people are fleeing in droves as food and medicine becomes harder to come by. The Pew Research Center said asylum applications by Venezuelans soared by 168 percent in 2016, compared to the year prior.
Veronica says she's unsure if she is deported whether it would be to Venezuela or Colombia, where she was born. She will likely ask an aunt with legal status to temporarily care for her daughters.
But she said, "the girls still need their mom."
Staff writer Ted Sherman contributed to this report.
Karen Yi may be reached at kyi@njadvancemedia.com. Follow her on Twitter at @karen_yi or on Facebook.