If you’d told me sixteen months ago, when my newborn baby boy was just a few days old and feeding every hour, that I’d still be shopping for breastfeeding dresses going into 2026, I’d have laughed in your face. Alas, it looks as though he’s laughing in mine.

Because while they give you all the warnings about breastfeeding before your baby even makes it earthside – “You just wait for the cracked nipples!”, “Your supply will have to keep up with his demand!”, “Beware of the hormonal CRASH when you start/slow/stop!”, “If he has allergies your whole diet will need to change!”, “He may not latch well!”, “He may not latch at all!” etc. – what they don’t warn you about is that you are not in charge. Of any of it. Not if they want milk. Or where they want milk. Or when they want milk. And most definitely not when they stop. Or, in my case, do not stop.

I’d always thought, all being well and if I was one of the few lucky ones for whom breastfeeding went relatively well for, I’d ideally aim for the 12 month mark before reclaiming my body as my own again and I could take basic medication without reading the entire pamphlet of information inside or go for dinner with friends without having to rush back for bed time.

Alas, his first birthday came and went, and despite him bossing us around and ploughing through his (sugar-free) birthday cake as though he were a teenager, there I was – watching on wearing yet another dress (this Broderie Anglaise shirt dress from H&M, to be precise) that had been chosen primarily due to the ease-of-access it provided to my breasts.

Because – despite the arrival of teeth into the equation and my endless hormonal crashes paired with unsolicited ‘advice’ and raised eyebrows – if he’s not ready to stop, then neither am I.