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CHAPTER 1
YOU ARE NOT WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO YOU. YOU ARE WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO BECOME FROM THAT EXPERIENCE.
Fast-forward to 1993, when I'm in Aspen, Colorado, for a photo shoot. I meet Mohamed Hadid on the gondola going up Ajax Mountain. We start talking. He is kind and very handsome. Soon we fall in love, get engaged, marry, and settle in Los Angeles. With his first wife, Mary, Mohamed has two girls, Marielle and Alana, who live in McLean, Virginia. On April 23, 1995, we welcome the first of our three angels, Jelena Noura Hadid (Gigi). Just a year and a half later, on October 9, 1996, Isabella Khair Hadid (Bella) is born. Then my son, Anwar Mohamed Gerard Hadid, arrives on June 22, 1999. I stop modeling after giving birth to Bella because traveling with two babies is not doable so I start working with Mohamed, who is a real estate developer and extremely smart, creative, and a genius in design. After losing most of his fortune in the early nineties' real estate crash, he is determined to turn things around. Like me, Mohamed came from very humble beginnings and was raised by a strong and loving mom, Khair Hadid. I have no doubt he will make it back on top. I have always had a passion for design and he teaches me about things like antiquing and wholesale furnishings. We are a great team; he creates the big picture and I am the detail person who follows right behind to put on the final touches. I enjoy working on his projects and designing interiors. I also love being a mother of three and am immersed in my life as a mommy and wife. It's a dream come true. I've finally found a place where I belong, my own special family in beautiful America.
Sadly, our marriage is short-lived, and in 2000 Mohamed and I separate. He's a good human being and provider for his children and always has been an amazing son to his mother. But unfortunately for me, he's not a faithful husband. It's a sad experience and hard for me to accept. It's also a big blow to my ego. I thought I was a pretty good catch: financially independent, on the covers of magazines, and absolutely loving my home life and roles as wife and mother. It takes a long time for me to truly understand that the breakdown of our marriage has nothing to do with who I am, but nevertheless it feels like a failure, even though there is nothing I could have done differently. Growing up without a father, this is the last thing I want for my children but I adapt.
As soon as Gigi finishes her pre-K year, the kids and I are off to Casa Amore, in Punta Mita, Mexico, a beautiful place that Mohamed and I built together and I decorated in authentic Mexican style. It's a colorful and happy home that I created with the vision of a lifetime with Mohamed and our family, but life isn't always what you think it will be. So I keep telling myself to pull up the bootstraps, a saying from my riding days that I've used throughout my life, meaning that I've got to push through and move forward, no matter the circumstances, and deal with the cards life has dealt me. After all, I have three beautiful babies, I am healthy, and I have a whole life ahead of me. The kids and I spend a quiet summer with my mom, my brother, his wife, Liseth, and their two daughters, Joann and Lizzy, barefoot on the beach, building sand castles, catching crabs, bodysurfing, watching birds, going on jungle rides in the pickup truck, and discovering all kinds of amazingness right in our backyard connected to Mother Nature. The kids learn about lizards, armadillos, and snakes. Sometimes we sleep on the beach to watch mamma turtles lay their eggs. I take long walks to think and process. Leo, Liseth, and I enjoy margaritas at the local beach bar while we pick up the fresh catch of the day. Life is beautiful and meaningful in this magical little town. I loved the people from the minute I arrived for the first time, just two years earlier.
While detoxing from my Beverly Hills life on my daily long sunset walks, I start to slowly digest my experience and find clarity. I realize that I don't want to go back there. Even though I always loved the palm trees and sunshine, I never really felt at home in Beverly Hills, and it is not an environment where I want to raise my children. But where am I going? That question consumes me the whole summer. I'm so grateful to have my mom and family here from Holland. They are so rational and always put things in perspective for me. It turns out to be the most difficult summer of my life so far, but I make it a magical one for my children. They have no idea what is really going on and don't need to know anything that is happening between their father and me. I tell them he is very busy working. They don't have a clue that this is the beginning of our new life.
I am reluctant to go back to L.A. I am humiliated and distrust the life I built there and most of the people in it. I'm actually toying with the idea of staying in Punta Mita for a year. I have grown to love this town and its people — I feel connected to the simplicity and honesty of life here. It will make me happy and give me hope. It's far away from Gucci and Chanel on Rodeo Drive and the fast, superficial world that now feels even emptier than ever before. As in every defining moment in my life thus far, however, I wake up one morning with a clear vision. I see us moving to Montecito, a small town close to Santa Barbara. That was the California I fell in love with some fifteen years earlier when I was modeling on the Santa Barbara pier with Kathy Ireland, a native of the area.
"If I can ever live in America full-time, this is where I want to be," I told her back then as we were looking at the breathtaking coastline in front of us. The town was so charming, the architecture magnificent, and it felt as if you could be anywhere in Europe. I always remembered the safe and familiar feeling it gave me, and now it suddenly makes sense that Montecito is where I need to go and raise Gigi, age six; Bella, five; and Anwar, just eighteen months old. I call a broker and start inquiring about rental properties and find out that I have only a week to get the kids enrolled in school. I ask my mom to stay with the little ones for two days so I can fly to Santa Barbara with Gigi to visit the Montecito Union School. It's the cutest little school, with beautiful green trees, a track field, and outdoor spaces. Gigi immediately loves the art studio and the assembly room, which has a stage where they do musicals. We visit the local barns and this gets her very excited about a new home and the opportunity to bring her pony, Prince Philip.
I guess when things are meant to be, everything just falls into place. It's like God waving his magic wand. I find a furnished house we love on a little street right off Middle Road, which is a two-minute walk to Scoop, the ice cream store, and Rusty's Pizza. I am sure Bella is going to be very happy about that.
Although my life feels upside down, I can sense we are going to feel at home in this charming little town. It's important to me that my children can attend public school and enjoy a simpler existence with horses and the benefits of a close-knit community. A week later, I pack up my three children and move to Montecito, where Gigi starts kindergarten and Bella enters pre-K.
Although the children and I move two hours away, Mohamed stays in Beverly Hills, and of course my goal is to keep him close and involved in their lives. Establishing a friendship after our separation takes great effort and a lot of swallowing my pride, but I believe it's essential in order to raise confident and stable children, and that's really all that matters to me at this point. Regardless of our past, I'm not going to allow my bruised ego to destroy the commitment I made when we brought our children into this world together. The love of both parents is important, and it's valuable for the children to see us get along. I work on forgiving him and choose to focus not on the pain he caused me but rather on what it's teaching me. Mohamed and I come from such different cultures that sometimes we clash on parenting issues, but we always come back around the table.
At the end of the day, this journey is about the happiness and well-being of my children and how they feel about their daddy. What I feel is not important. Around seven forty every morning, I phone Mohamed as we drive to school so they can say good morning and connect with his voice. I remember missing my daddy as a child so my heart hurts for them and I try to compromise in many different ways. Even though separation is a hardship for any family, the children and I manage to plant strong roots in Montecito.
We create a beautiful and happy life filled with joy and a fantastic group of friends at school and at our barn, who become our extended family. One of these family members is Paige, whom I met almost seven years earlier at the Santa Monica car wash. Back then, as we were sitting next to each other on a bench waiting for our cars to come out, she asked, "Okay, I know why I'm at the car wash, but why the hell are you here?" she said, nodding toward my engagement ring. "Because if I had a ring like that, someone else would be taking my car to be washed!" Her tone was sweet, and I couldn't help but laugh at her comment.
"I just got engaged last night," I said. "So I'm still feeling very uncomfortable with this big bauble on my finger. I've never even seen anything as big as this." We laughed and made small talk for a few more minutes until Paige's car was ready. She got up to go and we said good-bye.
That night, Mohamed and I attended a dinner party, and there was Paige! It turns out that she was hosting the dinner with her boyfriend, Sylvio, and they were both Mohamed's friends. Small world, isn't it? We were instant friends after that.
In Montecito, I start horseback riding again and spend endless hours at the barn teaching my children to ride. They learn to work in the barn, clean tack, and ride six days a week. I find solace in the same quiet place where I've always found comfort since I was a little girl: in nature. It's a rough first couple of years, and I'm lonely at times. My life is nonstop crazy busy raising my three rascals, but I'm proud of myself for coping and learning to run this family single-handedly, especially living so far from my mother and brother in Holland. I feel strongly about investing this crucial time into creating a foundation for the children. They're thriving, and our life is absorbed with horses. Although Anwar is not crazy about riding, he loves being at the barn and is always digging in the dirt looking for crystals. I try to get him into different sports, but none of them really interest him. He is always just content to be with his girls. Once all the emotions around this chapter are settled, I feel like I am entering the happiest time of my life. I just love being a classroom mom in charge of photography at my kids' school.
After the first two years, I buy a little farmhouse on East Valley Road. It overlooks horse pastures with a beautiful barn. I decorate it in a Ralph Lauren equestrian theme, and we're in heaven as we are woken by the roosters each morning at sunrise.
Toward the end of 2006, Mohamed calls me on a Monday night.
"Yo, I'm having a dinner party next Thursday and you should come," he says, using my nickname. "It's at seven thirty at my house."
"Okay, that sounds like fun," I say. But a week later on that Thursday, the kids and I don't get back from the barn until six o'clock. I'm still wearing my riding clothes, helping with homework, and have spaghetti Bolognese cooking on the stove. I am juggling a lot and by seven I'm definitely not ready to shower, get dressed up, and go to a dinner party all the way in Los Angeles, so I call Mohamed.
"I'm sorry, but I can't make it tonight," I say.
He sounds pretty annoyed. "Yo, if you don't start making an effort to go out and meet people, you'll be single for the rest of your life," he says. "Nobody's going to ring the doorbell on East Valley Road and ask you out." It's sweet that he worries, and I know he is right, but I honestly am happy immersed in the lives of my children. I'm used to being on their schedule, going to sleep at eight o'clock and waking up at six, and like it that way.
The next morning, Mohamed calls me. "There was this really great guy at my party, David Foster. He saw your pictures with the kids and asked who the beautiful woman was," Mohamed says. "I told him you were my ex-wife and that you were available." We both laugh at how silly this sounds, but it is endearing.
"Maybe I'll meet him some other time," I say. We carry on our conversation about kid stuff. When I hang up, I think it's interesting that, after all these years, Mohamed finally wants me to date and get a life. A couple of months later, it's Paige's fortieth birthday party, which Mohamed hosts at his home. When David Foster walks in, Paige elbows me.
"That's the guy who asked Mohamed about you," she says. "Let's go say hi." We walk over to him and Paige introduces us.
"It's nice to meet you," I say. Then I step back and take a head-to-toe look at David because I'm curious what type of guy Mohamed thinks is good enough for me. Our eyes lock and we make small talk. After a few minutes, I excuse myself from the conversation because David is with a date and it feels inappropriate to talk to a man who is with another woman. Several days later, David, who gets my number from a mutual friend, calls to ask me out. We meet at Lucky's in Montecito for dinner and then head to the bar at the Biltmore hotel. We have an instant connection and talk until three in the morning. We fall in love, and because David lives in Malibu, we start to date long-distance. This actually works out really well: I'm running my own household, and my main priority is raising my children, and he is the hardest-working man in the music business and spends most of his time recording in the studio.
In 2007, after I've been coughing on and off for months and experiencing sinus issues, I go see Dr. Joseph Sugerman, an ear, nose, and throat doctor in Beverly Hills. When he checks my thyroid, he feels a mass and immediately sends me for an ultrasound downstairs. Results reveal a pretty large tumor. Because of my mother's battle with breast cancer, I freak out when I hear the word "tumor" and don't think twice when the endrocrinologist tells me that I should have my thyroid removed. After the surgery, the mass is sent for a biopsy. It is discovered that three of my four parathyroid glands were encapsulated with my thyroid so, unbeknownst to the surgeon, they were removed as well. These little endocrine glands sit behind the thyroid and regulate the body's calcium level. This is crucial to keep your nervous system and muscles, like your heart, working properly. To help my body manage without my thyroid and these glands, I am prescribed Synthroid, a synthetic thyroid medication. Although I recover quickly from the surgery, I do experience a number of side effects from the medicine, including hair loss, exhaustion, and insomnia. I see a different specialist to get educated because blood tests show that my body's thyroid-stimulating hormone is not working properly.
In 2008, I start thinking about moving to Malibu. Mohamed likes the idea of having the kids closer so he can see them more often, especially because Gigi and Bella will be off to college before we know it. I find a beautiful piece of property on Carbon Canyon Road. It's on a hilltop with a spectacular view of the ocean, and I am excited by the thought of building one last special family home for my children. Every morning, I drop my kids off at school, drive sixty miles to Malibu, work at the job site with dozens of construction workers, and then drive back to Santa Barbara for school pickup at three o'clock. It's a crazy schedule. My afternoons and evenings are like those of many busy parents carpooling kids to and from volleyball, basketball, horseback riding, and tutors; cooking dinner; and helping with school projects and homework.
I do this five times a week for two years, which is why I don't think much when I begin feeling more fatigued than usual and having migraines. After all, braving Los Angeles traffic, not once but twice a day, is enough to give anyone a headache. However, soon the occasional migraine comes a few times a week.
This project is a lot more than I had imagined. It's double the budget and the financial burden is starting to crack me and I'm starting to feel exhausted most of the time.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Believe Me"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Yolanda Hadid.
Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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