Wheeling Gull Isle do you dream about jesus or quantum mechanics

She has existed on this planet for little more than twenty-four hours, and already, she is wild. Between echoing cries and yowls for milk when she struggles to find her mother's breast, she is squirming, tiny, unsteady wiggles that prove her to be helpless. 
But even in chaos, there are moments of calm. 
She had grown more and more familiar with her parents and the smells they brought with them every time she felt a touch. Blood no longer permeates them, and instead, they are more earthy and individual. Instinctually, she is drawn to them. 
It is her father's tongue that she feels pressed up against her body, making her yelp and roll over to her side. On tiny, weak paws, she rolls back over, inching closer to what she thinks is him when she finally bumps into something.  A forepaw.
A high-pitched croon comes from tiny, rose-colored lips, and the pudgy little body of the infant curls around him. He is inescapably large compared to her, but he brings warmth. 
Almost instantly, a wave of calm washes over her. It crashes all at once, strong and heavy, before it swallows her, lulling her towards what must have been sleep.