A Cicero woman’s baby was in the NICU. She was in ICE detention.

Nayra Guzmán knew there was something wrong with her daughter within hours of her birth — a long and complicated delivery that included a diagnosis of preeclampsia and ended in a Cesarean section. In the haze of recovery, the first-time mom noticed her daughter was struggling to breathe. When the baby started turning blue, Guzmán watched as doctors whisked her away to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU).

In the days that followed, the 22-year-old’s sole focus was her daughter’s recovery, even as their home, the greater Chicago area, became the latest target of President Donald Trump’s immigration enforcement agenda in a campaign titled Operation Midway Blitz.

“We weren’t worried about the immigration raids,” said Guzmán, an immigrant from Mexico who has a pending petition for asylum and a pending application for a visa for victims of crime. “Our worry was, ‘How are we going to get this baby home and out of the hospital?’ That was our number one priority, that she would be safe and healthy, and everything else had fallen to the background.”

That changed on the morning of Monday, Oct. 20. Just 15 days after her daughter’s birth, as Guzmán, her mom and younger brother loaded into their car for their daily drive to the NICU, they were surrounded by immigration enforcement agents and whisked away to detention.

Since Trump took office in January, the administration has abandoned Department of Homeland Security policies restricting the arrest and detention of immigrants who have recently given birth, are pregnant or are nursing. As a result, the administration has taken into custody immigrants like Guzmán, who are medically vulnerable and whose detention threatens not only their own health but also that of their newborn children — typically U.S. citizens — by depriving them of early bonding beneficial to a baby’s lifelong wellbeing.

The administration’s sudden expansion of immigration arrests in Chicago meant Guzmán was in the government’s custody for about 34 hours. She was kept in a holding facility that was intended to house people for only a small fraction of that time — one that has come under intense scrutiny amid allegations of overcrowding, unsanitary conditions and limited medical care. Even though she was still trying to produce breast milk for her daughter, Guzmán had limited access to food and water at the Broadview Processing Center and was never provided a breast pump. She said she was never assessed by a medical professional while in the government’s custody. Guzmán was left to manage the pain of her C-section recovery as well as her Type 1 diabetes with the supplies she had in her backpack at the time of her arrest.

ICE did not respond to a request for comment on Guzmán’s detention or the general conditions at Broadview for immigrants who have recently given birth.

Medical professionals say the conditions of many detention facilities — crowded, dirty and with inconsistent access to health care, food and water — are a threat to most people’s health. They pose particularly acute concerns for people who are still navigating the physical and psychological weight of postpartum recovery like Guzmán.

News reports, lawyers, Democratic lawmakers and immigration rights activists have identified dozens of cases of pregnant, postpartum and nursing individuals who have been detained and whose health has suffered as a result. But the total amount remains unknown: In March, the Republican-led Congress let lapse a requirement that Homeland Security report twice a year on the number of pregnant, postpartum and nursing individuals who have been detained. The Trump administration has declined to provide that information despite repeated requests from lawmakers, The 19th and others.

Now, as the administration expands its immigration enforcement campaign, exporting its Chicago strategy to Charlotte and New Orleans, Guzmán’s case offers a rare window into detention for pregnant and postpartum immigrants. Guzmán is also among the growing number of immigrants who are being detained despite having no criminal record, even as the administration insists its immigration enforcement agenda targets criminals and people who pose a safety threat to the country.

The family had finished breakfast and was loading into the car with some urgency. Guzmán’s daughter was still in the NICU, unable to eat or breathe independently. The doctors had planned a meeting to review the baby’s prognosis and care plans — and Guzmán also wanted to be there for her daughter’s noon feeding.

As Guzmán went to buckle her seatbelt, she looked out the window and noticed they were surrounded. By the look of the white SUVs, Guzmán said, the family knew immediately that they were being detained by immigration agents.

Guzmán remembers the agents asking where they were born and what paperwork they could show. The family, who arrived in the country three years ago, showed the agents their work permits and explained their pending asylum application. The family also explained that they were on their way to the NICU, and an agent approached Guzmán to ask how long it had been since the birth. With that information, they did not handcuff her as she was being detained.

Guzmán asked if she could please call the hospital to let them know she wouldn’t be coming in that day. Guzmán remembers an agent saying she’d have to talk about that with a judge, who would decide whether she would be released or go back to Mexico. The agents explained that after processing, she’d likely be going to a longer-term detention facility in Kentucky.

“In that moment, I just felt fear,” Guzmán said. “I thought, ‘The government is going to take custody of my daughter. I’m going to be in detention and I won’t be able to do anything for my daughter.’ If my daughter isn’t recovering with me there, I thought, then much less so if I’m arrested.”

Up to that point, Guzmán said the pain and difficulty of her own recovery had been overshadowed by her daughter’s. When she was with her, it all faded away. As she was being detained, it came into focus.

Guzmán’s C-section incision was throbbing on the ride to Broadview. The agent behind the wheel was driving fast over potholes, she said, despite pleas from her brother that Guzmán was in a fragile state following her surgery, which involved cutting through seven layers of tissue.

“How is it possible that I’m going all the way to Kentucky, in this state, six hours away? My scar is burning. I’m supposed to be resting,” she thought.

Once she arrived at Broadview, Guzmán said, she was taken to a room and examined by two immigration agents. They asked Guzmán to explain how her insulin pump and monitor worked and what medications she had in her backpack. One agent asked Guzmán to take off her belly binder, a stretchy garment that supports the abdomen after surgery. She declined, explaining that without it, she’d have a hard time managing the pain.

“I overheard another agent say, ‘Leave it. They’ll take it at the detention center,’” Guzmán recalled.

Eventually, she was transferred to a holding cell for women alongside her mom. They were given water and a sandwich at around 3 p.m., Guzmán said, her first meal since they were detained around 10 a.m.

The only places for rest inside the holding cell were small benches. Guzmán spent the night on one without a blanket or anything but what she had on her body.

“It was really uncomfortable. I was wearing two layers of leggings, two layers of socks, my sweatshirt, and I was still freezing,” Guzmán said. “Once I was laying down, I couldn’t really move because of the pain. And then I started to feel cramping in my uterus.”

C-section recovery typically involves six to eight weeks of rest, gentle movement, wound care and pain management. At a minimum, patients only 15 days out from a C-section require a bed, access to a breast pump, clean water and a sanitary restroom to change menstrual pads, said Dr. Beth Cronin, an OB-GYN in Rhode Island and chair of the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecology’s Committee of Advancing Equity in Obstetric and Gynecologic Health Care. They need access to a shower, and they need extra food — especially if they are breastfeeding.

“Those are medical necessities. You would never take anybody else who just had major surgery and give them a bench,” Cronin said upon learning about Guzmán’s case. The risk of infection is heightened for patients with Type 1 diabetes, she added.

Guzmán’s detention was made more difficult by the fact that she was held in a temporary ICE processing facility lacking the services of longer-term detention centers.

In a class-action suit filed Oct. 30, nine days after Guzmán’s release, people who had been detained at Broadview described overcrowded and dirty cells; limited food and water; no access to showers, soap or menstrual supplies; inadequate medical care; and freezing conditions at night. Multiple people with diabetes said they were given only a sandwich at every meal, though bread can cause blood sugar spikes. Days later, a judge said he found the accounts “highly credible,” and described the conditions as “unnecessarily cruel.”

In another case, filed by a nursing woman detained Oct. 30 and released a day later, government officials conceded that they were not aware of any accommodations at Broadview — such as a lactation room or breast pump — that would allow detained immigrants to express breast milk.

“Oversight of this facility is desperately needed as legal service providers and our constituents have raised concerns about the poor conditions at Broadview,” reads a letter signed by the state’s two senators and its 14 Democratic representatives, who have been denied entry to assess the conditions of the facility. “These reports allege unsanitary bathroom facilities; spreading illness; continued overcrowding; detainees sleeping on the floor or in chairs; a lack of access to food, water or hygiene products; restricted communications to family members and attorneys; and an inability to access medication.”

“Whether it’s a detention center, whether it’s any federal building under the Department of Homeland Security, we have to make sure that we are enacting and enforcing the policies to protect people,” said Rep. Delia Ramirez, who represents a Chicago-area district and has been pushing for more transparency around conditions at Broadview.

Under any circumstances, Cronin said, having a newborn requiring intensive care can be deeply traumatizing for someone who has just given birth. A large body of medical research suggests that early bonding between a parent and newborn can help nurture an infant’s brain development — fostering social, emotional and cognitive development — and can alleviate anxiety in someone newly postpartum.

Guzmán said that prior to her arrest, she was at the hospital daily, and would often get time “piel a piel,” or skin-to-skin, with her daughter. While in custody, Guzmán had no access to any information about her daughter. A relative had contacted immigration attorneys to sue for Guzmán’s release; the same lawyers had Guzmán’s father appointed as a temporary guardian for her daughter. Her father and uncle drove to the hospital — risking detention themselves — to visit the baby while Guzmán was in detention.

“Even if she had an uncomplicated vaginal birth without an incision, it’s still the fact that you’re separating a newly postpartum person from their baby in this way and putting them at personal risk to contract infection and get sick and not be appropriately nourished and be able to empty their breasts,” Cronin said. “And all of that is terrifying.”

Citing Guzmán’s health and that of her newborn daughter, her lawyers successfully petitioned a judge to order the family’s release. The three of them left Broadview at around 8 p.m. on Oct. 21, avoiding a transfer to a long-term detention facility, such as the one in Kentucky. It was too late to visit the hospital that day. The family waited for close to 30 minutes in the rain before their attorneys could pick them up, said Laura Smith, a lawyer who argued for the release of Guzmán and her family. Their first stop was for a meal at Portillo’s, a local fast food chain that specializes in Chicago-style hot dogs.

Even climbing a flight of stairs was difficult for Guzmán, Smith recalled: She had to walk backward, relying on her family for support.

After her release, Guzmán fell ill with flu-like symptoms, which kept her separated from her daughter for almost a week. After going almost two days with little food or water and without access to a breast pump, Guzmán said, her breast milk dried up.

While her daughter has made significant strides, she continues to need NICU care. Guzmán said her daughter still relies on a feeding tube, and doctors have ordered more tests to arrive at a diagnosis. Going outside — even to see her daughter — feels dangerous in a way it didn’t before.

“When I first got home, I felt relieved. But the next day, I had to face reality. I was telling myself, ‘You have to leave the house and see your baby.’ But I had this horrible fear that they would detain me again,” Guzmán said.

There is no active deportation case against Guzmán, and her visa application is still pending. She keeps having flashbacks to her arrest and detention: the sound of chains and handcuffs being thrown around by immigration agents, the screaming, the way the men arrive at the detention facility “all beat up and dirty.”

“It’s a deep fear and this feeling that there are eyes watching you everywhere.”

Mel Leonor Barclay and Shefali Luthra, who cover politics and reproductive health respectively, report for The 19th, an independent, nonprofit newsroom focused on gender, politics, policy and power.