“DEAR, I THINK MY WATER BAG JUST BROKE.”

The first time I heard those words was in March 2014. I thought the last time would be June 2017. Yet on 5 February 2026, at 1:45 a.m., we found ourselves driving to Thomson Medical Centre to celebrate a special birthday.

We praise God for blessing us with this beautiful gift, our precious baby girl, Olea (pronounced OH-LEE-UH) Tan. She was born just after 6:30 p.m., and weighed in at 2.74kg. She has the earliest arrival in the pregnancy (eager girl!) and is the lightest of our three children! The labour was long, but the pregnancy and delivery were relatively smooth—praise God for His hand of protection on Mama and the baby! Olea completes our family in the most wonderful way.

Our third-born arrives with a wide age gap from her siblings: 12 years younger than Eden, nine years younger than Judah. Common sense said, “Stop at two.” Others told us, “Why restart? Your kids are so much older already.” But when God gently spoke of having one more, we did stop, then we listened and surrendered to Him, and eventually obeyed Him. And He prepared us for a new adventure.

[Long story ahead. Grab tea.]

For Eden and Judah, thoughts of a new sibling began when we asked whether they wanted a brother or sister. Both chose a 妹妹, each for their own reasons. Eden remains 姐姐 while Judah steps up from 弟弟 to 哥哥. After so long without an infant’s cries and chuckles in the house, our youngest almost feels like a firstborn again. Our hearts are so full.

The story of Olea begins back in October 2024. God first stirred my heart about a third child through a dream: I was holding a baby. That same week, my mum and a colleague each told me—independently—that they had dreamed that we had a baby too. Three signs in one weekend. And Huiyi’s period was late…

Huiyi was not thrilled about the delay. I, however, had already thought of possible English and Chinese names within a day. She liked the names I suggested, even if the idea itself felt overwhelming. We hid those names in our hearts. Yes, I was clearly more ready for number three than my wife.

We take naming seriously. The English name speaks to identity and destiny; the Chinese name captures the lesson God taught us through the pregnancy. Eden is a paradise and garden of delight. Judah is the kingdom of praise that produced the line of King Jesus. With already a garden and a kingdom, our family’s next chapter called for a mountain.

We looked no further than the Mount of Olives. There, Jesus made His triumphant entry, prayed in Gethsemane before going to the cross, ascended after rising from the grave, and will return to rule as King. What a place of surrender, victory and glory.

Thus, we considered Oliver or Olivia. When we learned we were having a girl, Olivia charmed us, but it felt too popular for our liking. Coincidentally, this year, I bought an olive plant and noticed its Latin name: Olea Europaea. The very ancient tree that has covered the slopes of the Mount of Olives for thousands of years. Those groves witnessed the crowds shouting “Hosanna!”, Jesus’ anguished prayers of submission, the wonder of His ascension, and one day they will see the glory of His return.

The olive branch, tree, fruit and oil speak of peace (Genesis 8:11), anointing (Exodus 27:20) and steadfastness (Psalm 52:8). Olea grew on us. It is short, elegant and timeless. Olea Tan flows beautifully off the tongue. Best of all, we know no other Olea. Like her conception story, her name is unique from the start.

Back to October 2024. Huiyi’s period arrived a few days later. Relief for her. But confusion for me. Did I hear God wrongly? Yet those three dreams remained vivid.

Huiyi was honest: “God gave you three signs, but He hasn’t given me any. I need my own three signs.” She would follow if God spoke clearly to her too.

In mid-2024, we thought we were content being a family of four, and traded our seven-seater MPV for a five-seater sedan. We even discussed ligation or vasectomy, but felt no peace about anything so permanent. Even a temporary IUD felt too final. That hesitation made us wonder: were we actually open to one more?

Huiyi felt the reluctance more deeply. Her body would bear the greater cost, and after a demanding year she hoped for a promotion. A pregnancy might delay that. Still, she remained open. Before her work trip to San Francisco in October 2024, she prayed that God would show her ‘Oliver’ or ‘Olivia’ on a name tag, road sign or shop name. Nothing came.

In March 2025, her pre-appraisal meeting with her supervisor brought disappointment: no promotion that year, standard bonus. It seemed a third child would stay a distant thought.

Then came our trip to Japan with neighbours in March 2025. We felt that if God truly wanted to speak to us, He might do it in unlikely Tokyo, where so little is in English.

In Yotsuya, while our neighbours queued for taiyaki, Huiyi and I strolled a quiet neighbourhood, holding hands and praying silently. At the end of the street, Huiyi murmured, “Dear, wouldn’t it be nice to see a sign now?”

I tapped her shoulder. “Turn around.”

ON THE BALCONY BEHIND HER STOOD 16 POTS OF OLEA EUROPAEA.

She began to tear up. 16 pots—on hindsight, it was one for each month since October 2024 until Olea’s birthday in February 2026.

I exclaimed, “Tonight! Made in Japan!”

“I asked God for three signs,” she replied.

On the second day, in Omotesando, we passed by many billboards in Japanese after getting out of the subway, until we saw the one and only billboard in English: “Only by Oliver Peoples.”

We looked at each other, stunned. But Huiyi insisted it didn’t quite match her requested format.

Later, needing the restroom, we stepped into a random building in Aoyama. On our way out, WE WALKED PAST THE OLIVER PEOPLES SHOP ITSELF.

Sign two.

That evening, crossing the famous Shibuya scramble on our way to dinner, a huge signboard across the pedestrian crossing caught our eyes together: OLIVE LOUNGE. We both felt God was shouting silently to grab our attention.

Three signs, seen together, in as many days. It became clear for me. But as Huiyi insisted on waiting for a sign of provision, I resigned to how number three would not be Nippon-made.

When Huiyi returned to work, her director called her in. “Krystal, we fought for you at moderation. You will be promoted, with a good bonus.”

Huyit was overwhelmed. She was last promoted in 2023, so this took her by surprise. For a non-scholar to get promoted on the two-year mark is nothing short of a public service miracle. What a way for God to answer our prayer about provision!

Still cautious about timing, she asked God for more assurance. At a team bonding event, a colleague on maternity leave brought her two-month-old. Only Huiyi could soothe the baby to sleep. Her director smiled and said, “Krystal, motherhood looks good on you. I give you my blessings; you should go for number three!”

Those words came out of nowhere. Huiyi took it as the assurance she asked God for.

Therefore, we began trying for a baby in March 2025. As Eden came on the first try and Judah on the second, I had this quiet confidence that number three might happen on our third try. Indeed, we conceived her in June—by God’s grace! Hallelujah!

When Huiyi told her director about it in July, her delight was matched with giving Huiyi the freedom to step out of meetings and to work from home whenever needed. Since the new year, her assistant chief executive has called her time at home “nation building.” We are floored by God’s favour through her colleagues.

We journalled 60 signs over those 16 months. Each sign reminded us that God was with us, guiding us through each month.

Olea’s Chinese name is 陈昱 (pronounced yù). 昱 combines 日 (sun) over 立 (stand), meaning a bright and radiant sunlight—a dazzling brilliance standing strong. Like her siblings’ Chinese names, 昱 is a single character, unchanged between the traditional and simplified forms (so that no meaning is lost), pronounced with a “y-“ starting sound, and in the firm fourth tone. It links beautifully to Eden’s 晏, both in form (日) and substance (shalom at dawn/dusk and shalom at midday); these sisters were meant to grow up together.

As with Eden and Judah, we desire that our children would bear fruit of the Spirit not just through their names, but in their lives: love and grace (in my surname 陈, echoing Hebrew חֵן), joy (Eden), peace (晏), faithfulness and goodness (Judah and 毅). With Olea and 昱 we see gentleness, patience, and quiet self-control—reflected in the steadfast olea europaea and its shining fruit.

Through this pregnancy God taught us about His sustaining light: steady and golden like olive oil in ancient lamps, burning through the night without flickering. Olea’s oil brings peace and anointing; 昱 is the radiant dawn that heralds the brilliant light to come.

Eden brings the delight of paradise, Judah the bold praise of the lion, and Olea the peaceful light of the olive grove—three siblings, one beautiful story of God’s paradise, praise and now, peace.

Sweetie, Papa and Mama love you before we met you. You’re the embodiment of a promise kept, a surrender offered, an obedience rewarded and a miracle received. Like an olea europaea on the Mount of Olives, may you stand firm, bear fruit of peace, and shine with gentle, enduring radiance to everyone around you.

What an unspeakable joy to partner with God to write the first chapter of your life story. Our breakthrough was fulfilled when your water bag broke.

Olea, ILYTTE.