Erin McNaught shares health update after her seven-month-old baby undergoes surgery to remove tumour
Erin McNaught has shared a health update with her fans, after her seven-month-old son Obi underwent surgery to remove a brain tumour.
The 43-year-old Australian model shared a photo to social media on Saturday which captured her kissing her young son on the chest while he lay on a hospital bed and captioned it with some heartwarming words.
'Today Obi had the surgery to remove the tumour. The amazing team here are very happy with the way it went,' Erin began.
'While it's too early to tell much more, we are hoping this will have been his biggest hurdle.
She went on to thank her followers for their support during this difficult time.
From A-list scandals and red carpet mishaps to exclusive pictures and viral moments, subscribe to the DailyMail's new showbiz newsletter to stay in the loop.
'Taking each day as it comes but oh so thankful for today. Thank you everyone for all your beautiful messages of support.'
Earlier this week, Erin and her partner Stace Cadet shared devastating news about their son Obi Brooks Kotaras, revealing he was diagnosed with a brain tumour.
The couple, who welcomed their first child together in October last year, issued an emotional joint statement on Thursday morning, expressing their anguish over Obi's recent health battle.
'For the last few weeks we have noticed a rapid decline in Obi's behaviour and happiness,' the statement began.
'He was having problems eating, sleeping and most recently, keeping his head straight.'
They explained that after noticing the worrying changes they took Obi in for an MRI scan under the advice of their doctor.
The scan, conducted earlier this week, revealed the shocking diagnosis - a large tumour located on the right side of his brain.
'At about 6:00pm Tuesday night we met with a neurosurgeon who broke the heartbreaking news,' they said.
Earlier this week, Erin and her partner Stace Cadet shared devastating news about their son Obi Brooks Kotaras, revealing he was diagnosed with a brain tumour
'We are absolutely shattered and the last few days have been our hardest days.'
The former Miss Universe Australia and her partner went on to praise the team at Queensland Children's Hospital, who are now working with them to determine a treatment plan.
'Our team at the Queensland Children Hospital have been incredible and remain hopeful that we can remove the mass and get Obi healthy and happy pending the results,' they added.
The post was flooded with messages of support from family, friends and fans, including Erin's ex-husband, who she shares two children with - sons Evander, seven, and Ennio, five.
The harrowing update follows what was initially a joyful start to parenthood for Erin and Stace, who confirmed the birth of their son exclusively to Daily Mail Australia back in December following his birth in October.
The couple shared at the time that they had named him Obi and were over the moon to bring him home.
'We are so in love with him, we can't believe he's finally here,' Stace said in December.
The former MTV host also previously opened up about her difficult pregnancy, revealing the journey had been 'a little touch and go at times,' with health complications in the final trimester.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
The Guardian
30 minutes ago
- The Guardian
‘Tennis repairs you': the 101-year-old fuelled by iced coffee who still plays competitively
Henry Young doesn't mind being asked about his secret to a long, active life – it comes with the territory when you're a 101-year-old competitive tennis player. It has its perks, like getting to play on centre court during the Australian Open, but what he does mind is that it's considered so remarkable that he is playing at all. That he is seen as extraordinary and there must be some magic trick that keeps him going. 'What bugs me is that people give up their tennis when they have some kind of injury,' Young says. 'I'm a monument to the medical profession because I've had so many injuries and I just persevere, and then tennis repairs you.' Just as a sore calf doesn't have to mean the end of the road for a runner, or a pulled hamstring signal the end of a football career, Young wishes the prospect of injury didn't deter older people from playing sport. But staring down the barrel of a long rehabilitation process can be daunting, and returning to sport and exercise after injury undeniably gets harder as you age, so an ever-increasing amount of determination is required each time. This is not something Young is lacking. 'Two new knees, a new hip, pacemaker for my heart, hearing aids in one ear and a cochlear implant in the other and two broken noses,' he says. 'You just can't keep a good man down.' Young's doggedness is key to playing for so long – he just can't stop, it's not in his nature. Tennis has featured in Young's life since school, along with rugby and then squash during his time as a fighter pilot in the New Zealand navy. But when he returned to work on the land in South Australia after the second world war, he could only pick up a racket a few times a year. It wasn't until Young was 70 and retired that tennis became such a big part of his life. Winding around War Memorial Drive in Adelaide 30 years ago, he passed the tennis club with a billboard out front saying 'good tennis players wanted' and thought he'd have a crack. 'They said, 'you have to get tennis lessons unless you belong to a tennis club,' and I didn't want to take lessons,' Young says. So he made up a club. 'I said that I belonged to the Inglewood Tennis Club. [Inglewood] was the name of a neighbouring property where we used to play tennis. And they took it.' As Young had suspected, he played well enough to satisfy the recruiters at Memorial Drive so no lessons were required. 'That's when it started,' he says. 'And I'm competitive so I started really playing, and making it my sport, which it still is.' Now a centenarian with three decades of competitive tennis under his belt, Young is preparing for the ITF Masters Championships in Croatia in October. He plays three to four times a week, often with his friend and sometimes doubles partner Gerry Prideaux, and spends a little time in the gym at his retirement complex. That training regime is about to diversify further. 'I've bought myself a rowing machine,' Young says. 'I've set it up next to the window … so every morning I'm going to do 20 minutes rowing in the Adelaide hills.' Young made history in 2023 as the first 100-year-old to play in the World Masters Individual Championships. 'It's only recently that they've started to make it a bit easier for me,' he says. 'I used to have to play down in the 80-year-olds [age category]. But then they made it 85, now they've got the 90s, and some of the countries are even going to 95.' He's sure it won't be long before there are enough players over 100 to have their own age group too. 'I'm doing my little bit to persuade people to keep on trying, because we're all living longer these days.' Sign up to Australia Sport Get a daily roundup of the latest sports news, features and comment from our Australian sports desk after newsletter promotion Young is happy to share his advice for staying healthy as you age and swears by 'wholesome thoughts' and a balanced diet with a twist. 'I watch my diet, and part of my diet is that I drink three two-litre [cartons] of Farmers Union iced coffee every week,' he says. His attachment to iced coffee is so strong that he's always itching to get back home to it when he travels interstate. The coffee is the outlier in an otherwise fairly standard menu. 'I like everything, I like my meat and my fish and vegetables … I make sure that I get that full variety,' he says. 'I snack on nuts during the day and I've got my iced coffee, and that really keeps me fit.' However, Young's number one tip for people of any age is no secret at all. 'I would encourage everybody to play tennis,' he says, claiming the medical profession supports his view that it's the best ball sport for you. 'In tennis, win or lose, you gain something. It's very nice to be able to say to the man at the other end of the tennis court, 'it was a good win, but you had to work for it,' and you both laugh. They're the ones that you remember, the games that you really had to fight for, and that's competition … it's good for you.'
Daily Mail
3 hours ago
- Daily Mail
People are just realizing what it means if you keep waking up at the same time in the middle of the night
Waking up at the same time each night can send you into a panic and leave you wondering why but the real reason is more surprising than just a racing mind. A good night's sleep is crucial for daily life, yet waking up suddenly during the night or early morning - typically 3 to 4am - is surprisingly common, with one US study finding that 35.5 percent of people reported jolting awake more than three times a week, as reported by Many restless sleepers believe their nightly wake-ups are caused by an overactive mind - reliving embarrassing memories from the past or simply overthinking - and often aren't sure whether they should seek help. 'As a cognitive therapist, I sometimes joke that the only good thing about 3am waking is that it gives us all a vivid example of catastrophizing,' Greg Murray, a sleep expert, wrote in an article published by The Conversation. 'Waking and worrying at 3am is very understandable and very human,' he added. However, the reason behind this phenomenon isn't rooted in anxiety or the stress that often creeps in during the quiet, dark hours of the night. Instead, the collective experience of a 3am wake-up call is intricately tied to how our bodies function on a day-to-day basis. Murray, the Director of the Centre for Mental Health at Swinburne University of Technology in Australia, tied the strange phenomenon to our body's neurobiology and hormonal rhythms. During a normal night's sleep, our neurobiology - the study of our nervous system's structure, function, and development - typically hits a critical turning point between 3am to 4am. Around this time, our core body temperature begins to rise, sleep pressure eases since we've already rested, melatonin - the sleep hormone - has peaked, and cortisol - the stress hormone - starts increasing, gearing the body up to wake and face the day ahead. This experience surprisingly happens without outside signals - like bright light peering through our bedroom windows - as our bodies are built to predict both sunrise and sunset thanks to our natural circadian rhythm. However, rising cortisol levels can play a key part in whether or not you fully wake up during the wee-hours of the night, as it mainly helps regulate your body's response to stress, The Cleveland Clinic explained. This stress hormone plays a massive role in making you feel on high alert and 'triggers the release of glucose (sugar) from your liver', giving your body a quick burst of energy during stressful moments. Simply put, if you're more stressed than usual, your body likely releases more cortisol during the night - leading to those abrupt, middle-of-the-night wake-ups. Although about one in three people report jolting awake in the middle of the night, the truth is we all wake up several times - we're just not usually aware of it until stress comes to play. According to Murray, when sleep is going well, 'we are simply unaware of these awakenings'. But with added stress, there's a good chance those brief wake-up moments turn into fully self-aware moments. Stress can also cause hypervigilance - feeling anxious or on edge about being awake during the night - which often leads to insomnia. External supports are also missing in the depths of night - no social connections or cultural comforts. 'With none of our human skills and capital, we are left alone in the dark with our thoughts,' Murray explained. 'So the mind is partly right when it concludes the problems it's generated are unsolvable - at 3am, most problems literally would be.' Once the sun rises, familiar sounds, smells, and sensations help put things in perspective. Problems that felt overwhelming just hours earlier suddenly seem much smaller, and people often wonder why they couldn't calm themselves down the night before. 'The truth is, our mind isn't really looking for a solution at 3am,' Murray wrote. 'We might think we are problem solving by mentally working over issues at this hour, but this isn't really problem solving; it's problem solving's evil twin - worry,' he added. The revelation stunned people across the internet, many of whom had long believed they were alone in their mysterious, late-night awakenings. 'So true. Reading this at 4am,' one user wrote to Facebook. Another added: 'My 4am issue is finally explained.' 'The Bain of my life,' a third chimed in. 'Interesting read.' 'I don't know about fears and shortcomings, but my brain goes off in all directions when I awake in the middle of the night,' wrote another. Joining into the conversation, another user wrote: 'These might be the answers to my waking most nights.' So, for those who wake up at the same time every night, the big question remains: What do you do about it? 'Buddhism has a strong position on this type of mental activity: the self is a fiction, and that fiction is the source of all distress,' Murray explained. As a helpful tip, Murray recommended practicing Buddhist-informed mindfulness during the day to manage stress - making it easier to use the same technique during those quiet, restless hours at night. If all else fails, traditional cognitive behavioral therapy advice can help - getting out of bed, turning on a dim light and cracking open a book to distract your mind and ease back into sleep. 'One last tip,' Murray wrote. 'It's important to convince yourself (during daylight hours) that you want to avoid catastrophic thinking.'
The Independent
6 hours ago
- The Independent
What Father's Day is really like as a disabled dad
The marketing people would have us believe Father's Day is about 'active dad'. He's there with the kids running around, kicking a ball about, giving piggy back rides, fooling around at the park. And that was me. I embraced the role, even though all that activity didn't prevent the development of, ahem, a bona fide dad bod. Until that is, l I had an uncomfortably close encounter with a cement truck. Fun fact: the padding offered no protection. My first thought when it hit was that my children (one born, one on the way) would be left without a father. I had almost no contact with mine growing up. I had no relationship with him. I didn't want to leave my children in the same place. It was a horrifying thought, on top of the physical agony and the fear of death. Nightmare number two was this: Am I wearing the loud and obnoxious purple boxers that came as part a three pack? It is a universal truth that if you buy three packs of boxers, one will be horrible. Would the ghouls hanging around to watch the show see them when they pulled me out, put me on a stretcher and started the first aid? Fortunately, no. Turns out mine were a utilitarian black. The icky purple ones have since been binned. Coming out the other side and learning to live with disability inevitably changed my most important job, and thus the day celebrating it. Kicking a ball about? Not going to happen with a paralysed right leg. Pushing a swing? Same thing. Another painful truth is that I not only missed my daughter's birth, I missed out on a lot the other stuff in the early days while I was busy trying to coax my body into doing things it didn't want to do – like walking. I can manage a little. But I'm bad at it, I need a pair of sticks and I still manage to fall over and break bones a lot. So, I use a wheelchair most of the time. The new, disabled dad bod inevitably complicated things. I never used to mind my kids jumping on me before. But dad 2.0 was apt to scream loudly when this happened. That's before we get onto the subject of PTSD, panic attacks out in public and the like. One of the women who witnessed the infamous Orkney Island shooting, of a waiter in an Indian restaurant, described it like this in Amazon's documentary: 'You don't move on from trauma. You just live around it.' Very true. Even when mine had been addressed (well mostly, I still periodically see a therapist), trips out – one of the joys of parenting – became massively more complicated because of the extra level of planning required. No longer could we just jump on the tube and go somewhere on a sunny day, or indeed on any day. First we had to check that our destination was accessible. Then we had to assess the route to see if it was even possible to get there. Then we had to work timings out and what medication we would need to take with us. Londoners often like to grouse about the capital's public transport system, but they are spoiled compared to much of the rest of the country. Unless you're disabled, of course. Transport for London – TFL – has become an expletive in our house, believe me. My wife actually got very good at the planning part. So when I took my daughter to see Taylor Swift, she handled the logistics. If there was a degree in disability science, she'd get a double first without having to extend herself. But I still find the lack of spontaneity frustrating. There were a few compensations. Using the disabled queue at theme parks is kind of handy. But even that's a mixed blessing, as I realised when I heard a mother's venomous hiss about me being one of 'those special people' at Peppa Pig World. I wanted to wheel up to her and tell her I'd happily trade my position in the queue for a properly working body that didn't torture me. But we made do with one my wife's patented 'teacher glares'. You don't want to be on the receiving end, believe me. My wife often gets more angry about the crap I have to deal with than I do. Disabled dad survival tip: having a tiger partner makes life, and parenting, a lot easier. Oh, and try Legoland. It's another favourite family venue, but the people there seem a lot nicer. The wheelchair did sometimes come in handy on trips when our children were younger, because you can sling a rucksack over the back and you can also put a tired and grouchy child on the operator. A 'daddy ride' used to cheer my daughter up. It cheered me up. It helped get me fit, too. 'Active dad' – just on wheels. And that's what I became. I even ended up taking the sports wheelchair I used for playing basketball into school to give a talk about keeping fit while disabled. I seemed to get cool points for doing that, partly because I let my children's friends have a spin. Sports wheelchairs are fast – and a lot of fun. Plus, all that activity means that today's 'dad bod' is less dad bod than it was. Working from home – for I joined the revolution long before the pandemic hit – also meant I saw a lot more of my kids when they were young than most fathers get too. A rare an unequivocal plus. And it has given them a perspective that others don't have. My daughter, in particular, doesn't like it when she sees me getting grief. She has a keen sense of justice. What's fair, and what's not. So Father's Day? It is still a bit different. It always will be. But we've learned to work with it. You adapt, because you have to – but also because it's worth it.
