Maybe all we had to do to get me to go into labor was ruin a perfetly good car so I'll be stuck in the house alone, wait for Pequita to develop a a fever at 2:30am of 101.5, and wait for the previously clean house to slip back into its former state, with all the pet-hair tumbleweeds and nary a visible table surface in sight.
Or maybe I'm just CRAZY from anticipation and all these contractions are just constipation. Could happen. I've been a little excited and stressed in the last few days. Bah. I'm going back to bed.