Mexican Anchor Baby

The birth of our son gives us an immediate path to permanent residency in Mexico.

In the immediate aftermath of the birth of our son, we received a huge outpouring of love and support as well as many, many congratulations. But one message in particular stood out not for its loving sentiment, but for its casual helpfulness.

The message was on Instagram and came from our friend Brandi, the wife of my friend Eli whom I’ve known longer than anyone else. They were among the first of our friends to learn we were pregnant and also some of the first to learn Leo had been born, and we’d been talking about the implications of having a baby in Mexico for months.

Brandi’s message was a repost of a rather breezy Instagram story posted by some rando who said hey, did you know that if you have a baby in Mexico you immediately qualify for permanent residency?

We did not know that, and I immediately tried to verify the story’s claims. Incredibly, within mere moments I found a document from the Mexican government that said yes indeed, having a child in Mexico immediately gives you the ability to apply for permanent residency.

I was in high school during the George W. Bush years, and as a result, I’m very familiar with the derogatory term, “Mexican anchor baby.” Typically it’s used by xenophobes to talk about Mexicans (or, really, any undocumented person from Central or South America) who end up having a child in the United States. The idea is that because the child is by birth a U.S. citizen, they serve as an “anchor” for the parents, who otherwise would be deported.

Well, that idea goes both ways. Our own child, who is by birth a Mexican citizen, anchors us here in Mexico. While our path to residency, and ultimately citizenship, was by no means at risk, Leo’s birth hugely expedites that process. We no longer have to wait three years to apply for permanent residency, and while we could easily answer whatever questions the immigration folks might have asked about why we would want to live forever in Mexico, we now have an immediate answer.

We did also confirm our newfound path to permanent residency with our attorney, a very professional, prompt, and rather stoic man named German, who comes to every appointment we’ve had with him with a freshly pressed dress shirt which he tucks into blue jeans so fresh-looking and immaculate that he may very well be wearing a brand new pair every time we see him. He also confirmed that Leo’s birth grants us the ability to immediately apply for permanent residency.

Nothing in Mexico is easy, though. It turns out that in Mexico, babies are not granted birth certificates at the hospital. Instead, the hospital provides you with what is essentially a vitally important notarized document that you have to bring to the office of the civil registry. You’ll also need a ream of other documents proving where you were born, that you’re married (if you do indeed have a partner), that your marriage isn’t a sham (more on that to come!), and far more besides.

Our appointment to make sure that Leo’s existence is officially recognized by the Mexican government will happen in the coming months, and right now we’re in the process of certifying that our marriage is legal and wasn’t conducted by a stranger in the back of a Wendy’s. The process, which involves having an “apostille” certify our document so that “countries in the 1961 Hague Convention will recognize it,” is worthy of its own post. After that, we’ll register him with the U.S. Embassy in Mexico City, get him a U.S. passport, and then proceed to get him registered (with passports) from the other nations with which he, and we, have citizenship, which are the U.K. and Switzerland.

For now, though, we can rest a tiny bit more easily knowing that not only does our baby have options for where he can live and work, so do we, and if things really go to hell in the United States, as we’re anticipating they will, our very own Mexican anchor baby will keep us on the southern side of the border.

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