Birthrates are falling in the Roaring Fork Valley. For some families, it’s the rising cost of living or the tumultuous political climate. Others simply feel less constrained by traditional gender roles and societal expectations.
Compared to previous generations, women have more options now when it comes to how they want to build a family — to have five kids, one, or none at all.
For Cynthia Ayala, 28, getting to choose was everything.
Growing up in Carbondale and Glenwood Springs, Cynthia always felt different from other little girls around her who played with dolls and playacted getting married and having babies.
Cynthia never understood that impulse.
“I'm like, What is going on here? Like, why? Why do I want to have kids? Because just to have them isn't really a great thing, in my opinion.”
That feeling of ambivalence — or even negativity — toward kids only grew as she entered adulthood. When she got married, her partner wanted children, forcing her to consider the possibility.
“I was always on the fence about it," she said. “But it never happened.”
She felt strongly that if they were going to have kids, it should be for the right reasons — not, “because your mom is telling you you should have kids, or your grandma,” she said.
Nor did the idea of a “family legacy” sway her.
That was her ex-husband’s argument. He told her he wanted to keep his “bloodline” going, she said. “And I'm like, I don't know what that means. We are not of royal line. We're Mexican. There are many Mexican babies.”
They ended up divorcing and Cynthia’s feelings about kids stayed the same — even as people tried to convince her otherwise: “Why wouldn't you?” And, “kids are great.”
Still, the aspirational, idealized version of motherhood she’d always heard about never seemed to match what she’d seen of real-world parenting. She worried about the financial strain, and the stress of passing on her family history of diabetes and cancer.
But she was especially concerned about the way raising kids seemed to suck up people’s time and energy, and the impact that can have on a child.
She thought of the family members who told her how their parents were always working, leaving them too tired to give them the attention they needed as children.
Sometimes, Cynthia felt like she was the only person willing to acknowledge the negative sides of having children.
“It’s a lot — a lot of money. It's a lot of resources, a lot of time, and breaking your head over things,” she said.
That all added up to a “No.”
She imagined a conversation with an unborn child: “‘You know what's going to be best for both of us?’” she said. “Currently, it's not to have any.”
Cinthia acknowledged that many women don’t have the freedom to make this choice — starting with her own family. Her mother is one of 12 and her father is one of 13.
Things feel a lot different now compared to when Cynthia was younger. More women are opting for a child-free life.
“I feel like that's helped me feel not as isolated in the choosing to not have kids right now,” she said.
Instead of pursuing motherhood, Cynthia is an amateur rugby player who loves to travel, and she has a passion for baking. She’s the kind of person who will happily stay out until 3 a.m. with her friends, and she’s a dog mom to her Cocker Spaniel, Mable.
On the weekends, they go climbing and hiking together or hang out by the river. Mable will swim, wagging her tail happily, while Cynthia watches her.
“It's the best thing,” she said.
The choice not to have children means Cinthia gets to make other choices — embracing different versions of what women can be.
