Last Mother’s Day was not easy for me. I had suffered an early miscarriage in March, and when May rolled around, the loss remained raw. Still, my husband and I went to church, and I tried not to cry through the songs. Many churches give away a little gift to mothers, and ours was no exception. Volunteers handed out hundreds, if not thousands, of carnations as we exited the service. I wasn’t going to take one. I had no baby in my belly or child clinging to my hand. A volunteer handed me one anyway. “I’m not a mother–” I faltered. I was, really, but I didn’t want to explain.…