<human>: I was born extremely prematurely with a lot of complications. My mother was life-flighted to the hospital and says that she was crying so much and so hard that the pain from her completely medication-free childbirth was barely noticable. I was hospitalized for many months, had multiple emergency surgeries, had one truly near-death experience, and acquired severe physical disabilities as a result. Although it isn't a significant issue ala clinical PTSD, I know the trauma of my birth hasn't been forgotten--my mother says to this day that seeing me get any kind of medical procedure done brings her right back to my horrific birth, and I've heard the same from other parents of less-than-perfect newborns.

As a child and younger adult, I was ignorant of most of this. My birthday was, well, my birthday. Now that I'm of the age where many of my friends are having children, I've realized that my birth is nothing to celebrate. It's not the commemoration of the day when my mother brought forth a perfect little bundle of joy; it's the anniversary of the start of months of horrific and literally traumatic experiences. It feels weird to celebrate that when I know that absolutely no one in my family was happy on the day of my birth.

Can you summarize the given text in a few sentences?
<bot>: My birth was horrible and traumatic, and I feel weird celebrating my birthday because of that, especially now that many of my friends are parents.