The very delightful Turia Pitt and her fiancé Michael Hoskin have welcomed a healthy and happy second baby to their family.
“Welcome to the world Rahiti!”
Turia and Michael were already parents to 2-year-old Hakavai. Now they’ve added another little boy to their gang.
“Maeva i te ao nei!” Turia posted in an Instagram birth announcement. “Welcome to the world Rahiti.”
Rahiti means ‘sunrise’ or ‘the rising sun’ and it’s of Tahitian origin.
Also? It’s very pretty!
“Fresh lil seedling”
Turia’s followers and famous friends were delighted by the brilliant news of Rahiti’s safe arrival. They flooded the second-time mum’s Instagram account with excited comments and well-wishes.
“Just precious! Congrats lovely and much love to you and the family,” model and mum-of-two Megan Gale posted.
“Congratulations!!!!! Beautiful news,” radio presenter Bec Judd commented.
“Yyyyes!! Here he is! Welcome, Rahiti. Congrats Turia. Here’s to your fresh lil seedling,” beauty company CEO Zöe Foster Blake wrote.
Lisa Wilkinson also joined the rush to congratulate Turia, Michael and Hakavai: “Just beautiful!!!! Well done mum. And another fabulous name. Big love to all four of you gorgeous humans.”
In early January, Turia revealed this pregnancy was proving super stressful because the looming fires were triggering all kinds of traumatic feelings.
“I’m exhausted. I feel like I’ve done 10 marathons. And we can’t relax because it’s only the start of summer, and it’s not over yet,” she wrote in an Instagram post.
“I’ve had recurring nightmares about running through flames with my son in my arms. It’s been difficult to sleep, eat or think and all I’ve really wanted to do is tap out, put my head in the sand and pretend that nothing is going on.”
Turia suffered terrible injuries when she was trapped in a 2011 bushfire during a WA ultramarathon, making this summer’s fires — which were close to her home — particularly threatening.
Thankfully her family have endured the fires relatively unscathed, and have the bonus of a fresh new baby to brighten their days.
Huge congratulations to Turia, Michael and Hakavai on their gorgeous new addition.
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Fires had been raging up and down the South Coast for close to a month. People were evacuated from Bawley Point and Tabourie Lake. Milton was hit. Michael did food and supply runs in his boat. We watched as the sky went red and black days before Christmas. More fires broke out on New Years Eve. I watched, my mouth agape, as two angry plumes from the fires north and south of us joined together over Mollymook Beach. And then, the power went out. Mobile reception became spotty. Internet was down. Rumours swirled around town like the ashes that rained down on us. Embers in our backyards. Homes had been lost. Whole streets obliterated. A girlfriend’s panicked text about her dad being trapped. I packed my go bag and filled the bath with water. Michael cooked bacon and eggs on the barbecue outside. Hakavai and I read books on the balcony. We watched as the fine grey smoke settled in on our beloved Mollymook Beach. At a quarter to eight, the evening was quiet. Not a peaceful and serene quiet, but an eerie quiet. An apocalyptic quiet. No one on their balconies drinking beers. No music blaring from our neighbours next door, or from the houses across the street. No revellers preparing to celebrate the new year. And it was dark. No power. No lights. First of all: I’m sorry that I haven’t been more proactive in this time. It’s been a tough few weeks for me emotionally. I’ve had to focus on not letting my emotions and own experiences get the better of me. I’ve tried to not let the panic genie out of the bottle (because once that genie’s out, you’ve got zero chance of squashing it back in). And, I’m exhausted. I feel like I’ve done 10 marathons. And we can’t relax because it’s only the start of summer, and it’s not over yet. So just like in a marathon, I’ve realised I have to pace myself. A lot of things have been tough. Being 8 months pregnant with a toddler, I’ve felt as useful as tits on a bull. I’ve had recurring nightmares about running through flames with my son in my arms. It’s been difficult to sleep, eat or think and all I’ve really wanted to do is tap out, put my head in the sand and pretend that nothing is going on. Continued in comments.