Hot-chocolate booths sit on the edges of the lake, which resembles a child’s spinning toy with all the skaters gliding in circles. Allie has banned me from the café—a dictate I didn’t protest with much fervor since I’m inclined to stick close to home these days. I’m almost two weeks late. According to Dr. Nolan, I’m one centimeter dilated. She’s had me monitored for two non-stress tests, which have indicated the baby is responding fine and the heartbeat is normal. She told me to try some home induction techniques and, if still nothing has happened in a few days, then we’d talk about medical intervention. I’m anxious. Not really nervous—at least, not as nervous as I was during childbirth classes—but I’m ready to have this pregnancy over and done with. Dean and I go for a walk around the indoor gym first thing in the morning. I’ve been exercising regularly throughout the pregnancy, but walking is also supposed to jumpstart labor. The other day Dean brought home two pineapples, claiming he read that there’s some enzyme in pineapple that’s supposed to “ripen”
