Ella's Soapbox

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

My first ultrasound was done at six-weeks gestation. My first photos of my twins, and the day my pregnancy was confirmed. I remember being so relieved, so happy. I left the exam room and stopped at the doctor's office door, where I jumped up and down and showed him my new photos of my new babies. He smiled and let me hug him before casually handing me a bottle of folic acid, telling me to take one with my prenatal vitamins.

I didn't do it.

Looking at the photos after Ella's diagnosis, I was certain they'd known. Maybe they didn't tell me because it was too early. Maybe they'd wanted to give me a few weeks of happiness between seven years of infertility and a lifetime of grief.
In my head, I know that at six weeks the window for her neural tube to close had passed. In my heart, I've never forgiven myself.
I'd been transferred from the fertility center to my regular ob/gyn by the time of my next ultrasound and Ella's diagnosis five weeks later.
I didn't search the internet. For months, I didn't google anencephaly. I needed them to look me in the eye and tell me what they knew. I needed to not get lost alone in a sea of information. I needed facts from people who knew they were talking to me about my precious baby. For days, I only knew a handful of them, and I clung to them, repeating them to myself over and over. I knew that if she survived birth, she wouldn't live for more than a few hours. I knew that her chances of surviving birth were greater with a c-section, I knew that there was a chance that Lennox's life would become endangered and I'd need to be prepared to face terrible decisions if it did, and I knew one more fact that nobody would say: that there was a possibility this was my fault.
I needed all of the possibilities to be on the table in order to process any of it. Nothing could be left off, especially if it was just to spare me from guilt. I needed someone, any one of these doctors, to acknowledge that I could have done something to cause this. I could have been the reason my baby girl was going to die. Even if I wasn't, it needed to be ruled out for valid reasons beyond just attempts to pacify me. I needed facts to ground me while my world spun out around me.
Eventually I had a doctor who listened. While he would never concede that I could be responsible for my daughter's fate, he did recognize my desperation to understand, and he spent time talking with me about it from both medical and religious perspectives.
I've carried this with me for nine years. The possibility. The unknown. The guilt.
Recently I learned through genetic testing that I have two MTHFR gene mutations, and under Disease Associations, the words "Isolated Anencephaly" paralyzed me.
It seems like I should feel better... or worse. It's been a few weeks and there have been days it's hard to get out of bed as I re-live every conversation and sit with this new tangible information that I keep poking and turning over in my hands, shaking, trying to force it to explain to me why my daughter is gone. It isn't bringing me peace like I would've thought. It seems to be telling me that it is my fault. And that it isn't. I'll fold this up and tuck it away among all the things that make me who I am. And like everything else, I'll take it out when I need to, run my fingers over it, become familiar with it. The guilt remains, and I'll carry that along with the grief, the pain, the love, the happiness, the miracles, and the memories.

The unknown, however, is smaller now. I have more information to ground me and balance me as I move forward every day in this world that still spins out around me, and for that, I'm very grateful.

October is pregnancy and infant loss awareness month, and "I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."

I don't make up facts. I just make them fun! But for real, don't believe people on the internet!

Hey guys! We're coming up on Season 2 of "Do you want it on your skin?"!
I know the anticipation is killing you. To quench your thirst for knowledge and comedy, please enjoy these behind-the-scenes shenanigans

https://depot.ellassoapbox.com/shop/ellas-soapbox

What I make is tangible. The reason I make it is not.

Ella’s Soapbox was built from love, loss, and the belief that the people we carry with us can still create something meaningful in this world.

Every product is made with intention. Every ingredient matters. Every story matters. Every name matters.

This is more than what I sell. It’s why I keep showing up. 🤍

SODIUM TALLOWATE 🧪🧼

It sounds like a sophisticated laboratory ingredient.

Maybe a mineral.

Maybe a salt.

Maybe something created by scientists to make soap harder, creamier, and longer-lasting.

And it does help make a hard, long-lasting bar with a creamy lather.

But it wasn’t invented in a laboratory.

It came from—

animal fat. 🐄

Sodium tallowate is simply the name for tallow after it has reacted with sodium hydroxide and become soap.

Plenty of soapmakers use it and make beautiful soap with it.

I don’t.

Not because it’s dangerous. Not because it doesn’t work.

Because Ella’s Soapbox is vegan, and the cow has contributed enough already. 😂

Ingredients matter. And sometimes the ingredient name saves the plot twist until the very end.

These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA, but the cow has been fully briefed.

RICINUS COMMUNIS OIL 🌱🫧

Sounds questionable.

It’s castor oil. 😂

In soap, castor oil helps create a rich, stable lather and adds conditioning to the bar.

And unlike everything else I talk about, castor oil has actually made it onto the FDA’s list—as an over-the-counter laxative ingredient. So apparently these statements have been evaluated by the FDA… just not for the reason I needed. 😬

Hero or villain?

Hero in the soap.

A threat in the medicine cabinet.

Ingredients matter. Context matters even more.

HYDROGENATED OLIVE OIL 🫒🧪

Sounds like someone gave olive oil a science experiment and a gym membership.

It’s still olive oil—it has just been hydrogenated, which changes it from a liquid into a more solid, wax-like ingredient.

In skincare and soap, it can help add firmness, texture, and conditioning without requiring the assistance of a coconut-scented chemistry villain.

Hero or villain?

Hero. Just olive oil wearing structural support. 😂

Ingredients matter. And sometimes a long, scientific name simply means a familiar ingredient has been modified to work differently in a formula.

These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA, but hydrogenated olive oil has been evaluated by my soap recipe and told to hold everything together.

SODIUM HYDROXIDE 🧪🧼

Sounds dangerous.

Because, before soapmaking, it is. 😂

Sodium hydroxide is lye—the ingredient that reacts with oils during saponification and turns them into soap.

No lye, no soap.

Not “lye-free soap.”
Not “soap made without chemicals.”
Just… no soap.

Used incorrectly, sodium hydroxide is absolutely not something to play with. Used correctly in a properly formulated recipe, it does its job, reacts with the oils, and becomes part of an entirely new substance.

Hero or villain?

Neither. It’s the intense employee who requires safety equipment but is also the only reason the company exists.

Ingredients matter. Chemistry matters. And sometimes the scariest-looking ingredient is the one making the entire product possible. 🫧

These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA, but they have been aggressively defended by every soapmaker who has ever heard the phrase “lye-free soap.”