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This story was originally published by The 19th.

It was a frigid January morning in Minneapolis. Alexa quietly stepped outside her apartment to heat her car for her baby, who was waiting inside in her crib.

They immediately spotted her.

At the edge of the complex, the doors of a van carrying Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents swung open. They sprinted toward her.

She remembers the guns they held, and how the sight of them caused her to drop her lunchbox in the snow, turn on the spot and run as fast as she ever had back into the safety of her apartment, back to her daughter. When she shut the door, she didn’t leave again for nearly three months.

She couldn’t work. Those months drained every penny she had saved. When her own money ran out, she had no one to turn to. A year prior, her partner died in a car accident while she was eight months pregnant, leaving her with no other family in the United States. As she kept an eye on the ICE agents outside of her window, she turned to Minneapolis’ robust mutual aid networks run by volunteers who delivered groceries, formula and diapers to her door.

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When ICE finally started to withdraw from the city in April, Alexa, whose name The 19th has changed to protect her privacy, finally ventured out. She started picking up odd jobs again and life returned to some sense of normalcy.

Until it came time to renew her Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) application about two months ago.

Alexa arrived alone in the United States from Honduras when she was 14 years old, which qualified her for DACA. For years, that policy has protected her from deportation and granted her permission to work. That work permit has been her lifeline over 12 years, and every two years she has faithfully renewed it.

With no savings, she had to decide between paying her rent to keep her baby and her 5-year-old housed, or paying the application fee — $555 — plus nearly $800 in attorneys fees she usually pays to ensure the application is done correctly. She chose rent.

But without her work authorization, Alexa can’t find a better job or regain any stability. She picks up any odd job that comes her way — cleaning hotel rooms, cooking and selling food — to gather up enough to renew her permit.

“I only work and work, and I can’t do anything else because I need to recover economically. I am the only one who is here with my daughter,” Alexa said in Spanish. “This is how many of us are.”

In the months since the end of ICE’s Operation Metro Surge in Minneapolis, which........

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