A mama wrote to me from the sofa, two weeks in: “I live in leggings and a baggy tee and I want to feel like a person again.” The first weeks home are not a wardrobe problem anybody plans for. You are sore, you are feeding every two hours, the front door opens more often than you would like, and everything you own either hurts, does not open, or looks like you have given up.

I know that stretch from the inside three times over, and the version I remember most is the one with a toddler. A newborn asleep on my chest, a two-year-old needing a snack, the doorbell, and me in a nursing tank I had slept in and leggings with a waistband that sat exactly on the scar. I answered the door anyway. The neighbour was lovely. I went back inside and cried, not because of the neighbour, because of how far from myself I felt in my own hallway.

What I built after that was not a wardrobe. It was ten soft pieces that all opened, all washed, all went together, and none of which read as pyjamas when the door went. Soft enough to sleep in, dressed enough to open the door. That is the whole brief for the first weeks, and here is how I meet it.

1. Two wireless nursing bras, one you can sleep in

Before any clothes, the thing under them. A soft wireless nursing bra that clips with one hand, that holds a pad, that you can sleep in without a seam digging. Two, in ivory and espresso, so one is always clean. Nothing in the first weeks hurts more than the wrong bra at 3am.

Everything below assumes you have this on.

2. Clip-down nursing tanks, taupe and ivory

The tank is the base of every outfit here. Clip down, feed, clip up, and the layer over it never moves. Long in the body so it covers a soft waistband, wide in the strap so the bra does not show. Taupe under the dark things, ivory under the pale.

A tank and joggers is the sofa; add the robe and it is the night; add the cardigan and it is the doorstep.

3. A relaxed V-neck tee in ivory

The top for the morning you want to look like someone who got dressed. Relaxed, soft, lifts from the hem over the tank. Ivory near a tired face is kind, and it goes over both the dark joggers and the pale pants. Buy it a size up from before if the old one pulls across the chest.

Ten breastfeeding-friendly looks from one oversized tee if you want proof that a tee can be an outfit.

From the capsules

The Soft Landing Capsule

Twenty soft pieces, twenty-five outfits for the first weeks home, every one opening for a feed. $14.99 once, yours to keep.

See the capsule →

4. A short-sleeve henley in espresso

Buttons at the neck, undone, is a feed; done up, it looks like a tee with intention. Espresso because a dark top is honest about leaks and spit-up. The henley is the piece that makes the ivory pants look like you are going somewhere, even when the somewhere is the kitchen.

The striped version, ivory and espresso, is the one stripe in the capsule, and it does the work of three plain tops.

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5. A wrap jersey top in dusty rose

The visitor top. A soft jersey wrap opens at the front without a button and ties where your waist is this week, which in the first weeks is somewhere new every few days. Dusty rose is the colour that makes you look rested when you are not. Over the taupe wide-leg pants it is an outfit; nobody needs to know it is loungewear.

Untie at the side, feed, retie. Nobody at the door notices.

6. Jersey lounge joggers with a drawstring, in espresso

The first-weeks trouser. Thick soft jersey, a drawstring that sits below the scar and above nothing that hurts, a cuff at the ankle so it looks like a choice. Espresso hides everything. These are the trousers I lived in and they are still in the drawer two years on.

Ten casual outfits around a pair of joggers if you doubt joggers can be dressed.

7. Wide-leg lounge pants in taupe

The pair that looks like you tried. Wide, with a wide soft waistband that sits where you need it, in a fabric with enough weight to hang rather than cling. Taupe rather than black, because taupe with the ivory tee is a decision and black with everything is a uniform.

Tank and these for the house; wrap top and these for the doorbell; henley and these for the walk to the postbox. Three outfits, one pair.

8. A fine-knit cardigan in ivory

The layer on the back of the chair. Fine enough for a warm house, long enough to cover the hips, buttoned to the middle so it comes off with one hand while the other holds a baby. Open, it is a feeding cover when someone is on the sofa opposite you.

Over the tank and joggers it is the piece that turns sleepwear into clothes. Nine ways to wear a long cardigan while nursing if one layer earning its place surprises you.

9. A button-front lounge dress in dusty rose

One dress for the first weeks, in a soft jersey, buttons all the way down the front, no waistband at all. Undo from the top for a feed; undo from the bottom to walk. It is the day with company, the first outing, the morning you want one piece between you and the world.

Soft enough to nap in. Dressed enough for the health visitor.

10. A shawl-collar robe, and shoes you step into

An espresso robe for the 3am feed: it wraps, it ties, it goes over the tank and joggers and makes a cold hallway bearable. And two pairs of shoes that go on without bending down: cushioned slides for the kitchen and the doorstep, soft slippers for the rest. Your back is tired and your hands are full; the shoes should know that.

Ten pieces, two bras, two shoes. They make twenty-five outfits for the first weeks, and I laid every one out and then put it on a body, with how it opens, in the Soft Landing Capsule. When the laptop comes back out, the Work From Home Lounge Capsule is the next step up.

The hallway after the neighbour is the moment I would go back and sit with, if I could. I would tell her that the problem was not her, it was that nobody had given her clothes for this exact stretch of life. Soft enough to sleep in, open for every feed, dressed enough for the door. That is not a high bar. It is just one nobody thinks to set until they are standing in the hallway.

If you want the twenty-five outfits already decided, the Soft Landing Capsule has them laid out and worn, with three pictures of you in them on the house, for $14.99 once. If you would rather someone told you each morning what to put on from what you already own, that is Anah inside the Atelier. And if you want to start with something free, First Look reads your colouring from one photo so you know whether your rose is dusty or bright before you buy a single tank.

Buy the bra. Pull the soft things out of the drawer. Open the door in them. The focus is on you, mama.