I grew up with three older, sports-playing brothers, so I'm no stranger to four-letter words. In fact, I use them quite a lot, despite the chastisement of my nine-year-old ("Mom, that is inappropriate language!").  But here's a four-letter word I cannot bear to utter, even in the best of circumstances: LICE.

Yes, my child has brought home lice. This isn't the first time - and probably won't be the last - but the first time was so traumatic that I have a hyper sensitivity to the mere mention of it. The first time we found lice on Emma was the day I went into labor with Phoebe. Two weeks early.

I don't think the lice induced labor, so let's not lay anymore lifestyle aggravating blame on them than necessary. But the feeling of sheer hopelessness while I watched Doug walk out the front door to go to work as I looked at the heaping piles of bedding I needed to wash and the head of hair I needed to comb through is still pretty fresh almost three years later. I was psyching myself up to face the lice, the laundry, the breathing mask I'd have to wear as I washed Emma's hair with the chemical shampoo I was yet to buy and the intense fine-tooth-comb-comb-through when I went to the bathroom and found I was bleeding.

This was not unusual during my pregnancy with Phoebe, but something felt off. Odd. So I called my doctor's office, who gave me the go-ahead to come in to see if my water had broken. (Incidentally, having your water break isn't always the large gush of fluid one thinks it is, a la Miranda's water breaking all over Carrie's Louboutins. It didn't happen that way for me with Emma, and I was finding, it wouldn't with Phoebe.)

More panic set in. What the heck do I do with a kid while the doctor is giving me a pelvic exam? Am I even allowed to take her in with me? What happens if I actually have to deliver and it's just me and Emma? Is it bad form to ask the friends on our "Emergency Delivery Check List" to leave work to take my child to their house and oh, by the way, deal with her lice? What the hell do I do?

It was almost 10 a.m. Doug would be going into a meeting at 10 that could last 15 minutes to an hour, where it would be difficult to reach him. Luckily, I reached him before he got into the meeting and asked him to meet me at my appointment. He could help Emma and be available if we needed to make any major decisions should something go wrong with the baby.

I was running around the house, throwing books, a laptop, DVDs and snacks into a bag for Emma. I had no idea how long we'd have to wait to see the doctor, for test results, for Doug. If there was an issue, I wanted her to be plugged into a Disney film happily munching on cheese sticks. With a hat on her head.

To my great relief Doug got to the doctor's office before I did. To my horror, yes, my water had broken. We needed to get to the delivery center to get placed on a monitor. If I didn't deliver within 48 hours, there could be great danger. Doug's greatest comedic timing came when after this announcement from the doctor, he turned to her and said, "Yeah, and by the way, would you mind checking us both for lice?"

We went home. While Doug went nuclear on Emma's head with the lice shampoo and the fine-tooth comb, I put new bedding on the beds, started the super hot water wash, vacuumed and managed to throw an overnight bag together. His parents were on their way (and to this day, I'm not sure they understood what they were walking into).

As we said goodbye to Em and her grandparents, I felt a huge load lift from my enormous belly. Now all I had to do was push the baby out of it. Incidentally, it took longer to deal with the lice drama that morning than it did to deliver Phoebe that evening.

Flash forward to four days ago. The dreaded louse on Emma's head. The toxic shampoo, the comb through. We had plans to visit friends for the Fourth of July weekend on Orcas Island, but that wouldn't happen. Em was such a good sport about it all despite her obvious disappointment. Phoebe watched a lot of movies while I sifted through Emma's hair over and over again. We've been washing and rubbing with so much Tea Tree that our house smells like the Australian outback.

But nobody else in our house got lice, thank goodness. Em's been clear since yesterday morning. Our vacation turned staycation became a nice excuse for us to hunker down and spend time as a family. Although I hate dealing with lice, the notion that we survived the first time and managed to deliver a healthy baby, then got our act together the second time so the lice remained contained, helps reinforce my confidence in us Kims as a cohesive unit.

'Lice' isn't the only four-letter-word that brought our family closer, but the best four-letter-word I can think of also had a hand in it: Love. In my mind, no nit will ever louse that up.