The Lucky Egg: What Everyone Deserves to Know About Their Fertility

My book, The Lucky Egg, is out in the world.

This moment… it’s hard to describe. I wrote these pages in stolen moments, late at night after tucking my kids into bed, between back-to-back patient consults, sometimes even with my laptop balanced on my knees while my husband drove me to work. I sacrificed sleep, health, and far too many weekends with my family, not so much because I set out to write a book, but because, as Count Rostov (the protagonist to one of my most beloved books) so eloquently put it:

This book demanded to be written.

The stories of my patients, their questions, heartbreaks, quiet strength, and relentless hope, echoed in my mind long after clinic hours ended. Over the years, through thousands of conversations in exam rooms and recovery rooms, I came to see just how deep the fertility knowledge gap is: between what people need to know and what they’re ever taught about their fertility. And once I saw it clearly, I couldn’t look away. That gap, and the voices of the people navigating it, became the siren call that pulled this book into existence.

I wrote this for everyone who’s gone through cycle after cycle—stim shots, ultrasounds, retrievals—only to come up empty-handed, wondering how much more they can take, and still choosing to try again.

I wrote this for the ones still bleeding, still grieving, still trying to make sense of their pregnancy loss.

I wrote this for the perfectionists, the planners, the Type-A “I-did-everything-right” women who feel blindsided.

I wrote this for the ones on the bathroom floor, holding a negative test and holding their breath.

I wrote this for the people who want a family, however that looks, and deserve better support navigating how to get there.

And most of all, I wrote this for my daughters, Ariana and Gemma, and everyone in their generation—so they don’t find themselves lost in the dark, like I, and so many others were growing up, only to realize, sometimes too late, that nobody told them how fertility actually works.

This book is a love letter. To my patients. To all of you who’ve reached out to me with your own stories. To the silent strugglers who haven’t yet said their pain out loud.

The Lucky Egg is the roadmap I wish existed when I started my own journey. It’s part science, part patient memoir, and all heart. It’s about reclaiming agency in a world that too often leaves people confused, dismissed, and bombarded with misinformation. And it’s the beginning of a new conversation about fertility: one that includes everyone and is based in science, not anecdotes.

So whether it’s tomorrow, next week, a month, or five years from now, when you see The Lucky Egg on shelves or in your mailbox, know this:

This book was written for you.