It's how he reaches northern Jordan, where his loved ones are struggling to make ends meet, how he hears their voices, how he checks in on his ailing father-in-law.When he first arrived in America 19 months ago with his wife and kids, Mazen would show photos on his phone to his two young children, reminding them about the uncles and grandparents they thought would soon be joining them.But now, Mazen says his children are asking heartbreaking questions when he flicks through photos of family members who used to be familiar faces."After almost two years," he says, "they ask me, 'Who's that? Where are they?'"And time and again, Mazen says, the children ask a question that he struggles to answer: When will they join us?Mazen and his wife Salam — who asked to be identified only by their first names to protect their family — arrived in the United States just before President Trump took office. The Syrian refugees thought their other family members were just a few weeks away. Now they're not sure they'll ever make it, as the US continues efforts to step up screenings and decrease the number of refugees the country lets in. Mazen and Salam say they don't know why their family members haven't made it to the US yet. But they fear new refugee policies are to blame. Officials, they say, have only told them that security screenings are still pending. The United States recently announced plans to dramatically lower the number of refugees the country can admit in fiscal year 2019 to 30,000, a figure that government officials say reflects the government's capacity to process refugees under new, stricter security screenings. Refugee advocates and immigrant rights groups argue the new cap is the latest in a series of xenophobic efforts by the administration to scale back immigration and demonize foreigners to score political points.And the US just reached a new milestone: in the 2018 fiscal year, which ended Sunday, the country admitted just 22,491 refugees — the lowest number since the refugee resettlement program began in 1980.Critics claim the United States is turning its back on the world's most vulnerable people at a time when global refugee numbers are at a historic high.Last month, Secretary of State Mike Pompeo pushed back against the Trump administration's detractors saying, "We are and continue to be the most generous nation in the world."Meanwhile, Mazen and Salam say their lives in the United States are in limbo until the rest of their family arrives.
An unprecedented drop in admissions
By any measure, the number of refugees admitted to the US in 2018 was historically low.The US welcomed less than half of the 45,000 refugees that it could have under this year's admissions cap.The 22,491 refugees admitted in 2018 also represents a steep drop from recent years: more than 53,000 were admitted in 2017 and nearly 85,000 came in 2016. This year's admissions are even lower than the 27,000 admitted in 2002, in the aftermath of 9/11, when virtually all paths of entry into the US were under intense scrutiny. In response to a question about why this year's admissions were so low, a State Department representative said that new screening and vetting procedures required by an executive order meant that the department did not have the resources to process more applications. That executive order — the second iteration of the administration's so-called "travel ban" — was issued by President Trump in March 2017 and set restrictions on refugee admissions. A later memo from President Trump implemented "enhanced vetting" for refugees from 11 countries — including Syria — deemed high risk by the secretaries of state and homeland security.At the time, Secretary of Homeland Security Kirstjen Nielsen released a statement justifying the new procedures saying, "These additional security measures will make it harder for bad actors to exploit our refugee program, and they will ensure we take a more risk-based approach to protecting the homeland." Refugee advocates say the slowdown is due to these new security hurdles being introduced."They've vastly increased the paperwork and data points that they collect on individuals, and at the same time, the administration really cut the capacity to process refugees," said Nazanin Ash, vice president for policy and advocacy at the International Rescue Committee (IRC).Administration officials acknowledge that the new vetting measures take longer, but say they're necessary to make the refugee program more secure.The State Department representative described the screenings as "critical." And L. Francis Cissna, head of US Citizenship and Immigration Services said at a conference in Washington this week that "this administration recognizes that nothing's more important than protecting our national security." For refugees coming from Syria — like Mazen and Salam's family — and other countries identified as high risk by the US government, admissions slowed to a trickle in 2018.Year over year, refugees coming to the US from Syria fell 99%, from 6,557 in 2017 to only 62 in 2018. The Syrian civil war has been raging since 2011, and has killed an estimated 400,000 people and forced 5.6 million people to flee fighting in the country.Countries like Iraq and Somalia also saw precipitous drops, with admissions from those countries falling 98% and 96% respectively. The US role in resettling refugees was a point of debate before President Trump took office, with American attitudes toward refugees mostly split down partisan lines. A 2016 Pew Research Center survey showed 54% of voters polled did not think the US had a responsibility to accept Syrian refugees. Reaction to Trump's travel ban was similarly split. And lengthy screening processes that can last for years are also nothing new.But the IRC's Nazanin Ash and other refugee advocates say the Trump administration's policies have made the process even more cumbersome for those in the pipeline, and forced the lives of qualified families seeking refuge into limbo.For instance, refugees seeking to resettle in the US must clear a host of medical, security and background checks. But Ash says each of these comes with an expiration date.According to the IRC, thousands of refugees seeking resettlement are seeing clearances expire — primarily their medical ones — due to the long wait times to pass the US' new security screenings. "You get trapped in a merry-go-round of screening procedures," Ash said. 
But beyond an individual family's experience, Ash is concerned about the consequences."There are foreign policy, national security and regional security implications of the administration's refugee policy," she said, "because other countries are saying, 'If the US isn't going to take refugees, why are they leaning on us to do it?'"
Waiting, with no end in sight
When he was young, Mazen dreamed of going to the US, of learning English, of getting a degree.But while he waits and hopes that his family can join them in Atlanta, his dreams seem as far out of reach as they've ever been.Six days a week, Mazen works long hours at a Mediterranean restaurant an hour from his home, leaving little time for him to master a new language — which he believes is the key to bettering his family's situation in America. "I'm a very ambitious guy," he said. "But when I arrived here, I faced a lot of closed doors because I have to work so much to support my family here and our family in Jordan."What little money he has left over after paying the bills, he sends to family in Jordan — $100 to Salam's family and $100 to his own."It's nothing, but at least I feel like I'm supporting them," he said.Life in Atlanta has not been easy for Salam either.As the oldest of six children, she worries constantly about her family in Jordan. She says her father's health took a turn for the worse because of the stress of their delayed admission, and now he is no longer able to work. And her younger sister, who she says was an excellent student, had to drop out during her senior year of high school to help the family make ends meet.For Salam, life has turned into a seemingly endless cycle of waiting. Waiting for her husband to get home from work. Waiting for the day when she can take time away from caring for their children to learn English. And waiting for that call — the one that tells her that her family is on the way."I feel I am alone here with no support," Salam said. "My life has stopped until they arrive."
CNN's Jennifer Hansler and Catherine E. Shoichet contributed to this report.
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