When Motherhood Feels Like a Cage (and How to See the Open Door)

No one told me that becoming a mom would make my calendar feel like it was under house arrest.

Nap schedules. Bedtime routines. The agony of hearing the sitter say “he was crying for his mama while you were gone.” Evenings out? Still expect to be woken up at 5am. Vacations? Possible, but not without either packing half your house or leaving your baby behind—which can feel like trying to cut yourself in half.

It’s not that you don’t want to go out, travel, or be spontaneous.

It’s that every decision now comes with a web of considerations:

Will it mess up naps? Will bedtime be a disaster tomorrow? Will the baby scream in the car seat the whole way?

And sometimes… it’s easier to just stay home.

Until one day you realize that home is starting to feel like a beautiful but locked room.

From Restriction to Ritual

Here’s the thing: feeling “trapped” doesn’t always mean you are trapped.

Often, it means you’re in the middle of a huge life transition—one where your priorities, responsibilities, and rhythms have shifted, but your mind hasn’t caught up yet.

A baby’s schedule can feel like a prison, but it’s also a structure that keeps the chaos from swallowing you whole. Naps and early bedtimes mean you get the same small pockets of quiet every day—something many people without kids would envy.

Travel might be harder now, yes—but it’s not off-limits. Maybe it just looks different for a while: a long weekend somewhere baby-friendly instead of a two-week overseas trip. There’s a whole world of “micro-adventures” within a few hours of your home, if you look for them.

And the truth about being “stuck” at home in the evenings? These are the years you get to slow down without guilt. You get to read more, cook more, or even just be still—things that will feel like luxuries when your kids are older and your evenings are once again pulled in ten directions.

Rethinking The Cage

Motherhood is limiting in some ways—but those same limits can also create depth, intention, and presence.

Instead of thinking, I can’t travel, try: I’m building my child’s sense of home before we explore the wider world together.

Instead of thinking, I’m trapped by bedtime, try: I’m protecting my child’s rest—and my own—so tomorrow is lighter for both of us.

This season won’t last forever.

One day you’ll stay out late without worrying about bedtime. You’ll book a flight without needing a portable crib. You’ll be able to say “yes” to more things spontaneously.

But when that day comes, you might just miss the way life feels right now—contained, yes, but also close, tender, and full of moments you can’t get back.

So if you feel trapped today, remember: the bars are temporary, and the view from inside the cage is more beautiful than you might think.