My daughter, who’s now 7 months old, is gawgeous. That’s not a typo. She’s too awe-inspiring to be just gorgeous, so I’ve dubbed her gawgeous. I know, I know. Every mom thinks that about their baby, but mine really is.

She was born with a head full of straight, black hair, styled in a beautiful pixie cut. (My aunt, a hairdresser, says women pay big money for the hairsyle at birth). She had lovely light-brown eyes. The most delicate features. And, because she was born via cesarean, a perfectly shaped head. She looked nothing like me, but that was OK. She was gawgeous! I know I sound vain, and guess how much I care …

Her pixie has grown out into beautiful curls — medium coils in the front, loose ones in the back. She has the chubbiest of chubby cheeks, and a gummy smile that could melt the coldest of hearts. Like I said, she’s gawgeous.

But I didn’t always feel that way about her.

In my July ultrasound, my kid looked like she might have been the creature from the black lagoon. Weird head, creepy eyes. In some shots, her mouth was open, making it look like she might be trying to gnaw her way out of me.

Of course I loved her, but how dare she look like an alien! I couldn’t brag with ultrasound photos of an alien!

How bad could it have been? Lookie here.

Told you. It’s down-right creepy.

The pregnancy books and magazines don’t prepare you for scary ultrasound pictures. I trusted those writers. I believed I’d have glorious photos to put in her baby book. I thought I’d be taken aback by how beautiful she was.

I expected to be choked up — but not because I was carrying the monster that tried to eat Sigourney Weaver.

Thank goodness those pictures were deceiving. I wasn’t looking forward to hiding her in the house until she got herself together.