Tracfone, I hate you.

It is 10:36 am, the time of day we are most likely to receive our travel call.
And the phone rings.
Don't get your hopes up, I tell myself as I prepare to walk across the room to the ringing phone.  Keep your cool, it's probably not them.
I calmly cross the room, carefully avoiding the wagging dog tails.  Even they can sense the abrupt onset of tension in the air.  I reach for the phone and see the caller id.  Unknown caller, it reads.  My heart is an audible thud thud thud in my chest as I answer the phone.
Hello?  Hello?  Heelllooooo?
No one is on the other end when I pick up, but then after a moment's pause a recording begins to play: "This is Tracfone Wireless.  If you-" I hang up on it, my hands shaking as I replace the phone on the receiver.  I don't even care what they felt they needed to tell me at 10:36 on a weekday morning. 
I am just about beyond wanting to know what anyone wants when they call unless they are our agency and I apologize for this lapse in character and kindness.  I am not myself right now.  It is as if the very anticipation of the call has a life of its own, and I am merely a puppet on a string, dancing to the phone when it rings with blind hope and faith.  When it is not THE CALL the puppeteer drops my strings and I crumple to the floor, figuratively, of course.  In reality I am going through the motions, but at every moment of the day, in the back recesses of my mind, I am thinking of the baby who will be our daughter and wishing with all of my being, every single cell, that she can be here soon. 
There is a reason I do not watch suspenseful movies, and a reason I do not read mysteries.  I am not good at this.  If this were I book I would have flipped to the last chapter already in order to find out what happens. 
Also, I apologize to Christy, who called exactly one minute after Tracfone.  I did not answer the phone because I could not bear to hear the disappointment in my own voice, and I did not want you to hear it, either.  I will call you back this afternoon, when all chance of travel calls is gone for yet another day, and I am returned to a person I sort of recognize for a little while.
I don't know how much longer I can hold onto the word "soon" before it becomes empty of hope.