July 24, 2025 • 14 mins
In this gripping episode of Take Care Time: The Tales and Exhales of Caregivers, we meet Rosa—a mother of two who crosses the southern border seeking safety, only to find herself navigating a new life as an undocumented caregiver. Through a blend of narrative storytelling and real-world insight, we explore what drives immigrants into the heart of America’s caregiving workforce, the challenges they face while awaiting asylum, and the quiet sacrifices made every day in someone else’s home. It’s a story of risk, resilience, and the invisible hands that care for our most vulnerable.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:02):
Welcome to Take Care of Time,the Tales and the Exhales of
Caregivers.
I'm your host, Beverly Nance,and today we begin a new series
that takes us beyond borders,geographical, emotional, and
deeply personal.
Today, I want to begin with somenumbers.
Numbers that matter, numbersthat, quite frankly, the
(00:25):
caregiving world can no longerafford to overlook.
Okay.
Right now nearly one in threedirect care workers in the
United States is an immigrant,and in home that number climbs
even higher 32%.
These other people caring forour aging parents are disabled.
Children are loved ones whocannot advocate for themselves,
(00:49):
and while the labor isinvisible, the backbone is
unmistakable Women.
Women make up 87% of thisworkforce, and among them more
than a quarter, are immigrants.
They change diapers, manage,seizures, administer medication
and cradle humanity at its mostvulnerable hour, often while
(01:13):
navigating a language barrier, acultural shift, and their own
trauma.
This episode marks the beginningof a new series I'm calling
Crossing Care.
It's about the caregivers whocrossed oceans, deserts and
borders to care for familiesthat are not their own.
It's about the sacrifices theymake, the stories they rarely
(01:35):
tell, and the invisible laborthat holds so many of our
households and our heartstogether.
And today I wanna introduce youto Rosa.
Rosa is not a statistic, she'snot a soundbite.
She's a mother, she's a fighter,a woman who came to this
country, not for a dream, butfor safety, for dignity, and for
(01:59):
her children.
So pour yourself something todrink or grab something to eat.
Depending on the day, settle in.
This one's gonna stay with you.
(02:46):
before Rosa crossed a border,she crossed a threshold of fear,
of desperation, and finally ofchoice.
She had lived all her life inthe outskirts of Gfa, te gfa,
Honduras.
Her home was a cramp, cinderblockhouse, nestled into a
hillside where Corrugated Roofsshimmered like tin prayers in
(03:10):
the sun.
Rosa's life was modest, but itwas hers.
She worked in a community clinicas a janitor, swept the halls
where barefoot children clutchtheir mothers and waited for
antibiotics.
Her son Mateo 10, loves soccer.
Her daughter Luna seven was softspoken, always scribbling and
(03:32):
drawing birds, but the clinicclosed after gang violence
surged in her area.
A neighbor was killed inCrossfire.
A note was left under her door.
Ra cooperate or leave.
She chose to leave.
Her brother was already missing.
Her children's school had beenshut down twice in a month due
(03:55):
to gunfire in the street, so shegathered what she could fit in a
backpack.
Three changes of clothes, herchildren's birth certificates,
one small Spanish language,children's Bible, and a zippered
pouch of money that amounted to74 US dollars.
They traveled by bus then onfoot.
(04:17):
Rosa was not alone.
Others, dozens of others hadleft too.
Mothers children, widowers andteenagers walking with blistered
feet and strapped hope.
The journey through Guatemalaand into Mexico was dangerous.
The cartel ran much of theroute.
There were checkpoints, someofficial many not.
(04:41):
Once a man tried to snatch Lunawhile Rosa napped in an
abandoned schoolhouse.
She fought him off with nothingbut a belt and her body.
Another time they shared one canof beans with three other
families, but somehow they madeit to the southern edge of the
United States to a crowdedencampment on the Rio Grande.
(05:01):
It was there among the sea ofstrangers and prayers that Rosa
asked for asylum and it wasthere that she would sit and
wait.
When Rosa was granted temporaryentry and allowed to stay in the
country pending her asylumhearing, she cried.
She was moved into a shelter inTexas.
Then through the help of anonprofit organization relocated
(05:23):
to Atlanta, Georgia, a city witha growing Latino population, and
an urgent need for care workers.
There was no fanfare.
No keys to the city.
Just a shared apartment withanother immigrant mother and her
two children.
Rosa now had two things, safetyand uncertainty.
(05:44):
She needed work before Rosacould even begin building a new
life in the United States.
She had to navigate the longuncertain road of the asylum
process.
Seeking asylum isn't just amatter of crossing the border
and starting fresh.
It is an act of hope wrapped inpaperwork, interviews, and long
waits filled with fear anduncertainty.
(06:07):
After arriving, Rosa wasrequired to file her asylum
application.
Within one year, she underwent acredible fear interview, a
critical step that determineswhether she had a genuine fear
of returning to her homecountry.
Her story, her trauma, hertruth, all had to be represented
and judged.
(06:28):
Then came the waiting for many,including Rosa Asylum decisions
can take months or even yearsduring this time.
She cannot legally work untilshe reached the 180 day mark
after filling out herapplication, only then could she
apply for a work permit untilthat permit arrived.
(06:49):
She relied on the kindness ofstrangers under the table,
opportunities, and the grit thatonly a mother protecting her
children can summon.
For many immigrants like Rosa,the asylum process is not just a
legal hurdle.
It is a daily exercise in faith,resilience and surviving the
in-between.
(07:10):
The nonprofit helped connect herwith a local caregiving agency
that served elderly clients whoneeded in-home support.
Many of the workers wereimmigrants, quiet, efficient,
exhausted.
Many of them sent money home tothe countries.
They hadn't seen in years.
Rosa began working part-time forcash caring for a retired
(07:32):
teacher named Ms.
Evelyn, who had dementia.
Rosa didn't know the term inEnglish, but she understood the
sadness in Evelyn's son's eyes.
She made tea.
She helped Ms.
Evelyn bathe.
She learned to hum the same hymnover and over because Evelyn
would only eat when she heardit.
Rosa's care was soft.
(07:54):
Gentle human and that more thanlanguage was what mattered most.
Still, she struggled.
She couldn't afford daycare, soher kids had to sit quietly in
the back of the room while shecleaned or cooked.
Mateo.
Now 11 would do his homework onthe floor of Evelyn's living
room.
Luna would draw pictures of hermother pushing a wheelchair or
(08:16):
pouring soup.
They were watching her work andsurvive.
What many didn't see was whatMs.
Rosa carried the grief ofleaving her home, the guilt of
crossing the border, the fearthat ice might knock at any
moment.
She smiled often, but her bodyached She hadn't seen a doctor
(08:36):
in over a year.
She worried her daughter's coughwas more than just a cold.
She sent money back to Hondurasto her mother she was raising
her sister's baby.
After her sister disappeared,she dreamed of permanent
residency of finding a smallhouse with a fence yard and two
bedrooms.
She taught herself English atnight, whispering along with her
(08:57):
children's YouTube videos, appleChair medicine, bedpan, and
somehow she kept going.
In the quiet suburban homes andbusting city apartments, there's
a truth.
Few speak out loud.
Many American families hireimmigrant caregivers under the
table.
It's a hush, hush arrangement.
(09:18):
Born from desperation on bothsides.
Families overwhelmed by the costof care or limited by the lack
of access to formal services,often turn to immigrants, many
of whom are undocumented orwaiting for work authorization.
The caregiver gets paid in cash.
No paperwork, no questions, noprotections.
(09:39):
These women like Rosa are thebackbone of households caring
for children, aging parents andloved ones with disabilities.
They cook meals, change diapers,administer meds, and yet they
exist in the shadows.
It's a relationship built ontrust.
But also imbalance.
There's no health insurance, noretirement, no safety net.
(10:02):
Just the hope of making itthrough another week of staying
below the radar while offeringto care for so many families.
Just the hope of making itthrough another week, of staying
below the radar while offeringthe care so many families depend
on to survive.
Rosa's story is not unique.
Thousands of immigrantsdocumented and undocumented make
(10:24):
up the invisible backbone ofcaregiving in America They
clean, they comfort, they care,all while fighting their own
battles with paperwork,prejudice, and poverty.
They do this work, not becauseit's easy, but because it is
possible.
And yet there's a deep hypocrisywoven into the fabric of this
reality.
The same politicians, neighbors,and talking heads who rail
(10:48):
against illegal immigration.
Are often the ones who quietlyhire undocumented workers to
clean their homes, wash theirchildren, or care for elderly
parents behind closed doors.
The lines blur.
Morality gets flexible.
When convenience is involved,It's easy to chat, build a wall
on a Facebook post in themorning, and then pay rosa in
(11:10):
cash that same evening becauseno one else is willing to bathe
your mother or stay overnightwith your disabled son.
It's not just hypocrisy, it'ssurvival dressed in
contradiction.
Immigrants are scapegoated inthe public square and silently
dependent on in the private one.
And caregivers like Rosa, theyknow it.
(11:30):
They live it every single day.
Rosa understands the risk everytime she steps outside.
She's aware of how fragile herexistence is.
She watches the news.
She hears the rhetoric.
She also sees her childrensleeping peacefully in a bed
(11:50):
that they don't have to sharewith three cousins.
She sees a refrigerator thatstays cold, a school that
doesn't close because the powerwent out, or there's a gang
outside back home.
Her daughter was nearlyassaulted walking to the store.
Here she walks to class with abackpack and a smile.
Rosa doesn't need permission tojustify staying.
(12:10):
Her justification is survival.
Her reason is hope, and evenwhen the fear creeps in, when
she wonders if tomorrow mightbring ice or illness.
She reminds herself a here.
At least I have a chance.
(12:33):
In the next episode, we'll keepfollowing Rosa's story and her
journey of her life in Americaas a caregiver.
While her story reminds us ofthe strength it takes to care
for others, it also reminds usof the cost.
(12:57):
The take care time Respite boxis here to help you reclaim a
moment just for you.
Every other month we handpickitems that Soothe, restore, and
bring a little joy to yourcaregiving day.
From relaxing teas to bathluxuries to motivational tools
and relaxing reads.
Whether you're a full-timecaregiver or balancing care and
career, this box is made justfor you because you matter too.
(13:22):
Subscribe today or gift one to acaregiver in your
life@takecaretime.com becauserest isn't selfish.
It's essential.
Take your time, respite boxbecause you matter too.
If Rosa's story moved, you sharethis episode with someone who
needs to hear it, anothercaregiver, a policymaker, or a
(13:44):
friend who never realized therole immigrants play in our care
system.
Your share can open hearts andminds.
Do you have a caregiver storythat you would like to have
told?
Please contact us at.
podcast@takecaretime.com.
We would love to hear from you.
Please note that this episodefeatures reenactments and
(14:05):
dramatized details.
While in most cases the exactverbatim dialogue may not be
known, all dramatizations aregrounded in thorough research
and crafted to honor the storiesshared to respect the privacy
and confidentiality of theindividuals involved names, and
some identifying details havebeen changed.
Until next week, take care.
Welcome to Take Care of Time,the Tales and the Exhales of
Caregivers.
I'm your host, Beverly Nance,and today we begin a new series
that takes us beyond borders,geographical, emotional, and
deeply personal.
Today, I want to begin with somenumbers.
Numbers that matter, numbersthat, quite frankly, the
(00:25):
caregiving world can no longerafford to overlook.
Okay.
Right now nearly one in threedirect care workers in the
United States is an immigrant,and in home that number climbs
even higher 32%.
These other people caring forour aging parents are disabled.
Children are loved ones whocannot advocate for themselves,
(00:49):
and while the labor isinvisible, the backbone is
unmistakable Women.
Women make up 87% of thisworkforce, and among them more
than a quarter, are immigrants.
They change diapers, manage,seizures, administer medication
and cradle humanity at its mostvulnerable hour, often while
(01:13):
navigating a language barrier, acultural shift, and their own
trauma.
This episode marks the beginningof a new series I'm calling
Crossing Care.
It's about the caregivers whocrossed oceans, deserts and
borders to care for familiesthat are not their own.
It's about the sacrifices theymake, the stories they rarely
(01:35):
tell, and the invisible laborthat holds so many of our
households and our heartstogether.
And today I wanna introduce youto Rosa.
Rosa is not a statistic, she'snot a soundbite.
She's a mother, she's a fighter,a woman who came to this
country, not for a dream, butfor safety, for dignity, and for
(01:59):
her children.
So pour yourself something todrink or grab something to eat.
Depending on the day, settle in.
This one's gonna stay with you.
(02:46):
before Rosa crossed a border,she crossed a threshold of fear,
of desperation, and finally ofchoice.
She had lived all her life inthe outskirts of Gfa, te gfa,
Honduras.
Her home was a cramp, cinderblockhouse, nestled into a
hillside where Corrugated Roofsshimmered like tin prayers in
(03:10):
the sun.
Rosa's life was modest, but itwas hers.
She worked in a community clinicas a janitor, swept the halls
where barefoot children clutchtheir mothers and waited for
antibiotics.
Her son Mateo 10, loves soccer.
Her daughter Luna seven was softspoken, always scribbling and
(03:32):
drawing birds, but the clinicclosed after gang violence
surged in her area.
A neighbor was killed inCrossfire.
A note was left under her door.
Ra cooperate or leave.
She chose to leave.
Her brother was already missing.
Her children's school had beenshut down twice in a month due
(03:55):
to gunfire in the street, so shegathered what she could fit in a
backpack.
Three changes of clothes, herchildren's birth certificates,
one small Spanish language,children's Bible, and a zippered
pouch of money that amounted to74 US dollars.
They traveled by bus then onfoot.
(04:17):
Rosa was not alone.
Others, dozens of others hadleft too.
Mothers children, widowers andteenagers walking with blistered
feet and strapped hope.
The journey through Guatemalaand into Mexico was dangerous.
The cartel ran much of theroute.
There were checkpoints, someofficial many not.
(04:41):
Once a man tried to snatch Lunawhile Rosa napped in an
abandoned schoolhouse.
She fought him off with nothingbut a belt and her body.
Another time they shared one canof beans with three other
families, but somehow they madeit to the southern edge of the
United States to a crowdedencampment on the Rio Grande.
(05:01):
It was there among the sea ofstrangers and prayers that Rosa
asked for asylum and it wasthere that she would sit and
wait.
When Rosa was granted temporaryentry and allowed to stay in the
country pending her asylumhearing, she cried.
She was moved into a shelter inTexas.
Then through the help of anonprofit organization relocated
(05:23):
to Atlanta, Georgia, a city witha growing Latino population, and
an urgent need for care workers.
There was no fanfare.
No keys to the city.
Just a shared apartment withanother immigrant mother and her
two children.
Rosa now had two things, safetyand uncertainty.
(05:44):
She needed work before Rosacould even begin building a new
life in the United States.
She had to navigate the longuncertain road of the asylum
process.
Seeking asylum isn't just amatter of crossing the border
and starting fresh.
It is an act of hope wrapped inpaperwork, interviews, and long
waits filled with fear anduncertainty.
(06:07):
After arriving, Rosa wasrequired to file her asylum
application.
Within one year, she underwent acredible fear interview, a
critical step that determineswhether she had a genuine fear
of returning to her homecountry.
Her story, her trauma, hertruth, all had to be represented
and judged.
(06:28):
Then came the waiting for many,including Rosa Asylum decisions
can take months or even yearsduring this time.
She cannot legally work untilshe reached the 180 day mark
after filling out herapplication, only then could she
apply for a work permit untilthat permit arrived.
(06:49):
She relied on the kindness ofstrangers under the table,
opportunities, and the grit thatonly a mother protecting her
children can summon.
For many immigrants like Rosa,the asylum process is not just a
legal hurdle.
It is a daily exercise in faith,resilience and surviving the
in-between.
(07:10):
The nonprofit helped connect herwith a local caregiving agency
that served elderly clients whoneeded in-home support.
Many of the workers wereimmigrants, quiet, efficient,
exhausted.
Many of them sent money home tothe countries.
They hadn't seen in years.
Rosa began working part-time forcash caring for a retired
(07:32):
teacher named Ms.
Evelyn, who had dementia.
Rosa didn't know the term inEnglish, but she understood the
sadness in Evelyn's son's eyes.
She made tea.
She helped Ms.
Evelyn bathe.
She learned to hum the same hymnover and over because Evelyn
would only eat when she heardit.
Rosa's care was soft.
(07:54):
Gentle human and that more thanlanguage was what mattered most.
Still, she struggled.
She couldn't afford daycare, soher kids had to sit quietly in
the back of the room while shecleaned or cooked.
Mateo.
Now 11 would do his homework onthe floor of Evelyn's living
room.
Luna would draw pictures of hermother pushing a wheelchair or
(08:16):
pouring soup.
They were watching her work andsurvive.
What many didn't see was whatMs.
Rosa carried the grief ofleaving her home, the guilt of
crossing the border, the fearthat ice might knock at any
moment.
She smiled often, but her bodyached She hadn't seen a doctor
(08:36):
in over a year.
She worried her daughter's coughwas more than just a cold.
She sent money back to Hondurasto her mother she was raising
her sister's baby.
After her sister disappeared,she dreamed of permanent
residency of finding a smallhouse with a fence yard and two
bedrooms.
She taught herself English atnight, whispering along with her
(08:57):
children's YouTube videos, appleChair medicine, bedpan, and
somehow she kept going.
In the quiet suburban homes andbusting city apartments, there's
a truth.
Few speak out loud.
Many American families hireimmigrant caregivers under the
table.
It's a hush, hush arrangement.
(09:18):
Born from desperation on bothsides.
Families overwhelmed by the costof care or limited by the lack
of access to formal services,often turn to immigrants, many
of whom are undocumented orwaiting for work authorization.
The caregiver gets paid in cash.
No paperwork, no questions, noprotections.
(09:39):
These women like Rosa are thebackbone of households caring
for children, aging parents andloved ones with disabilities.
They cook meals, change diapers,administer meds, and yet they
exist in the shadows.
It's a relationship built ontrust.
But also imbalance.
There's no health insurance, noretirement, no safety net.
(10:02):
Just the hope of making itthrough another week of staying
below the radar while offeringto care for so many families.
Just the hope of making itthrough another week, of staying
below the radar while offeringthe care so many families depend
on to survive.
Rosa's story is not unique.
Thousands of immigrantsdocumented and undocumented make
(10:24):
up the invisible backbone ofcaregiving in America They
clean, they comfort, they care,all while fighting their own
battles with paperwork,prejudice, and poverty.
They do this work, not becauseit's easy, but because it is
possible.
And yet there's a deep hypocrisywoven into the fabric of this
reality.
The same politicians, neighbors,and talking heads who rail
(10:48):
against illegal immigration.
Are often the ones who quietlyhire undocumented workers to
clean their homes, wash theirchildren, or care for elderly
parents behind closed doors.
The lines blur.
Morality gets flexible.
When convenience is involved,It's easy to chat, build a wall
on a Facebook post in themorning, and then pay rosa in
(11:10):
cash that same evening becauseno one else is willing to bathe
your mother or stay overnightwith your disabled son.
It's not just hypocrisy, it'ssurvival dressed in
contradiction.
Immigrants are scapegoated inthe public square and silently
dependent on in the private one.
And caregivers like Rosa, theyknow it.
(11:30):
They live it every single day.
Rosa understands the risk everytime she steps outside.
She's aware of how fragile herexistence is.
She watches the news.
She hears the rhetoric.
She also sees her childrensleeping peacefully in a bed
(11:50):
that they don't have to sharewith three cousins.
She sees a refrigerator thatstays cold, a school that
doesn't close because the powerwent out, or there's a gang
outside back home.
Her daughter was nearlyassaulted walking to the store.
Here she walks to class with abackpack and a smile.
Rosa doesn't need permission tojustify staying.
(12:10):
Her justification is survival.
Her reason is hope, and evenwhen the fear creeps in, when
she wonders if tomorrow mightbring ice or illness.
She reminds herself a here.
At least I have a chance.
(12:33):
In the next episode, we'll keepfollowing Rosa's story and her
journey of her life in Americaas a caregiver.
While her story reminds us ofthe strength it takes to care
for others, it also reminds usof the cost.
(12:57):
The take care time Respite boxis here to help you reclaim a
moment just for you.
Every other month we handpickitems that Soothe, restore, and
bring a little joy to yourcaregiving day.
From relaxing teas to bathluxuries to motivational tools
and relaxing reads.
Whether you're a full-timecaregiver or balancing care and
career, this box is made justfor you because you matter too.
(13:22):
Subscribe today or gift one to acaregiver in your
life@takecaretime.com becauserest isn't selfish.
It's essential.
Take your time, respite boxbecause you matter too.
If Rosa's story moved, you sharethis episode with someone who
needs to hear it, anothercaregiver, a policymaker, or a
(13:44):
friend who never realized therole immigrants play in our care
system.
Your share can open hearts andminds.
Do you have a caregiver storythat you would like to have
told?
Please contact us at.
podcast@takecaretime.com.
We would love to hear from you.
Please note that this episodefeatures reenactments and
(14:05):
dramatized details.
While in most cases the exactverbatim dialogue may not be
known, all dramatizations aregrounded in thorough research
and crafted to honor the storiesshared to respect the privacy
and confidentiality of theindividuals involved names, and
some identifying details havebeen changed.
Until next week, take care.
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