MEXICALI, Mexico — Even in her worst nightmares, Erica Hernandez couldn't have imagined her life would turn out like this.
"I feel very lonely," she said. "I miss my daughters. I miss my home, my husband, everything."
Hernandez, who asked not to use her real name, was separated from two of her three daughters. For the past year and a half, she has lived in a Mexican shelter with her youngest daughter.
Her two older daughters were more than 250 miles away, staying with their grandmother in Arizona. She has no idea where her husband is and, at this point, doesn't even know if he's alive.
Born in Mexico, Hernandez was smuggled into the U.S. illegally as a child. She grew up in Phoenix, where she met her husband. Together they raised a family until one day, her husband — who was also undocumented — was pulled over during a routine traffic stop and deported back to Mexico.
Hernandez made the difficult decision to follow him there, knowing she would not be able to return to the U.S. because of her status.
"I thought about it for six months, but then I said, 'I have to be with the father of my daughters. I don't want them to be without him,'" she said.
For the next few years, life in Mexico was looking up. They bought a ranch and had a third daughter, Ariadna. Then, one night, she got a panicked call from her husband saying the local cartel had kidnaped him.
"He called me, and he said they're going to hurt you," she said. "I know they're going to hurt you because I don't have any money. You have to leave."
Unable to pay the ransom, Hernandez sent her two oldest daughters, both U.S. citizens, back to Arizona to live with her mother. She then left everything behind and headed north with her baby to Mexicali, a sweltering town on the Mexican side of the border with shelters for deported migrants.
There, Altagracia Tomayo Madeño runs the Cobina shelter. Most of the residents, she said, are fleeing violence. There are 30 families here, all desperately trying to find a way to cross the border into the U.S. The children, she says, suffer the most.
"These are children who didn't ask to be migrants," she said. "They arrive in bad condition. We try to give them a normal life."
Hernandez has been sharing a tiny room with another family. They can't leave the premises because of COVID-19. So her now 2-year-old daughter, Ariadna, has known little else outside their pink walls.
"I'm pretty sure she thinks this is a home that all the people here are her family. And they are," Hernandez said.
Hernandez is now seeking asylum in the U.S. But for others here, that may not be an option.
Luis came here from Honduras with his wife and two small children. The trek, mostly by bus and by foot when their money ran out, to the border took two years. He said if he can't get asylum, he might cross illegally.
Luis explained how he came to the border to escape the kidnappings in his own country, where criminal gangs routinely demand extortion money. His dream is to be able to provide the basics for his family. In Honduras, he said, he was lucky to make $12 an hour. Across the border, he could make that in one hour.
He responded "yes" when asked if he's afraid of getting caught crossing with his children. "But that's the only way I can have a life and maybe a little house someday," he said.
Entering the U.S. illegally can be extremely dangerous. At least 76 migrants died trying to cross the U.S.-Mexico border during the first three months of 2021, according to the International Organization for Migrants.
In March, an SUV overloaded with 25 undocumented immigrants crashed into a Big Rig near the town of Holtville on the U.S. side of the border. Thirteen people were killed.
Hernandez said she's determined to cross legally. But the hardest part is knowing that her daughters are growing up without her.
"We are good people," she said. "We just want to feel safe and free."
UPDATE: Following the Biden administration's suspension of the "Remain in Mexico" policy, Hernandez was finally allowed back into the U.S., where she reunited with her daughters.