The things that tend to get me hot under the collar are the demands made on grieving parents - to grieve in a certain way, to behave in a certain way (whether that is more or less sad), to make it easier for others.
Why me? doesn't bother me, because I've asked that question. I have long believed in a Higher Power or Higher Being, with variance as to just how involved God (whatever God is) is in our daily lives, so accepting randomness is difficult for me at best. I understand the other side, the 'why not me' and why me often ends with feelings of guilt or deserving for some perceived offense or indiscretion of my past. I realized it is fruitless, so I don't dwell much on it anymore. Sometimes I still wonder, but it's not a chest-beating plea to the universe, and it doesn't rattle around in my head nearly as often as it did in the first days when I had not yet really accepted that it had happened.
Now that I have accepted it and have adapted to it, the why of it seems irrelevant. It won't change the outcome. If it were not for the necessity of knowing for future pregnancies, I would gladly forgo the testing I'm going in for tomorrow and live in ignorance, because neither my husband nor I can find an answer to the questions these lab tests are asking that we are wholly comfortable with. It's lose/lose either way when it comes to Gabriel, and win/win for any future pregnancy - the reality is unchanged by the answers, Gabriel is still dead. But we need to know and so I go.
As for religious philosophies. . . well. They are not influenced by my profession, but life experiences. . . I had an experience which led me to believe in God. For a long time I was angry with God, and I probably still am. Immediately after losing Gabriel, I was furious and raging at what felt like a betrayal - I had *prayed* for this child and I had *begged* for God to save him as I'd never asked for anything in my life, except perhaps the lives of my mother and husband when they were in danger because of suicide attempts. I had put my tenuous faith on the line and despite my misgivings, I had tried hard to believe and pray and the result was losing my son. Furious. I wanted to stop believing in God, and the big thing that stopped me was wanting desperately to believe that some part of Gabriel or some essence of Gabriel was still out there somewhere and that I might be allowed near him again someday.
Some friends sent me a necklace with a disk that was stamped with a bible verse. I'm not a huge believer in the bible as the Final, Complete, Utter and Only Word of God, but I think it's beautiful work. When I read what it said though, a jolt shot through and something in me clicked. The anger was pretty gone and there was something there. The verse said "The angel said, I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God." I don't subscribe to 'angel babies' but there was something in this that resonated in the core of my being, that spoke to me with the authority of truth. And I believe it. My son is Gabriel and he stands in the presence of God. I don't know why or how I know that, but I do, and since then, I have been comforted and I have felt him near me almost everyday. Often fleeting, but there, real.
The best I can explain it, and I feel it's long and stumbling and rambly. Sorry.