“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 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 arrived the earliest and is lightest of our three! 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 beautiful way.

Our third child arrives with a wide age gap: 12 years younger than Eden, 9 years younger than Judah. Common sense said stop at two. But when God gently spoke of one more, we did stop, but we also listened, surrendered and eventually obeyed.

[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; Judah steps up from 弟弟 to 哥哥. After so long without an infant’s cries and chuckles in the house, our third child 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 excited 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 held and hid those names in our hearts.

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, the next chapter called for a mountain.

We looked no further than the Mount of Olives. It is where Jesus made His triumphant entry, where He prayed in Gethsemane before going to the cross, where He ascended after rising from the grave, and where He 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. 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. And 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. 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 business 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.”

Behind her stood sixteen pots of Olea Europaea.

She began to tear. Sixteen 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 still need 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. 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 caught our eyes together: OLIVE LOUNGE.

Three signs, seen together, in as many days. We knew God was speaking.

But we still waited for a sign of provision.

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.”

She was overwhelmed. Huiyi was last promoted in 2023 and 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.

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 sooth the baby to sleep. Her boss smiled and said, “Krystal, motherhood looks good on you. I give you my blessings; you should go for number three!”

The words came out of nowhere. She took it as the assurance she asked God for.

We began trying in March 2025. As Eden came on the first try and Judah on the second, I had this quiet confidence that Olea might come on our third. Indeed, we conceived her June—by God’s grace!

When Huiyi told her director about it in July, the response was pure delight: freedom to step out of meetings, 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 this favour.

We journalled sixty signs over those sixteen months. Each one reminded us that God was with us, guiding every step.

Her Chinese name is 陈昱 (pronounced “yù”). 昱 combines 日 (sun) over 立 (stand), meaning bright, radiant sunlight—dazzling brilliance standing strong. Like her siblings, it is a single character, unchanged between the traditional and simplified forms, pronounced with a “y-” beginning, and in the firm fourth tone. It links beautifully to Eden’s 晏, both in form and meaning; 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 olive tree 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 peace.

Sweetie, Papa and Mama love you before we’ve never met you. You are the embodiment of a promise kept, a surrender offered, an obedience rewarded, and a miracle received. Like your tree, may you stand firm, bear fruit of peace, and shine with gentle, enduring radiance to everyone around you.

What an unspeakable joy to watch God write your story.

Olea, ILYTTE.