Haider received threats from people he believes were linked to al Qaeda in Iraq. They accused him of spying for the Americans.

Back home, the family's bakery was bombed. If Haider and Soad did not return to Iraq, the callers said, the whole family would pay.

They were left with little choice.

"I couldn't take Noor back without finishing her care," Soad told me later from Baghdad. "I couldn't lose my family either."

They returned to Iraq, leaving Noor, still under medical supervision of U.S. doctors, with Nancy, who cared for her like a mother for another three months. In June, when Noor was ready, Nancy flew back with her to Kuwait. From there, the U.S. military returned her home to Abu Ghraib.

No one doubted that saving Noor's life was a good thing. But the threats to the family cast the decision in a new light: Should she have been brought to America? Could anyone have foreseen the repercussions to the family for the association with Americans?

A few days before Noor returned to Iraq, I went to see her. Morgan, the Army lieutenant, had recently returned from his combat tour. It was Father's Day, and he'd brought his own children to meet Noor.

I asked if he had any regrets about his role in bringing the Iraqi baby to America. He had none, but he also said this: "Maybe it was right. Maybe it was wrong."

The price for American help

At a roadside stall in their Baghdad neighborhood of Al Alam, Haider and his brother Bashar sell fresh fruits and vegetables. They are surrounded by a field of garbage where young boys playing soccer must dodge used hypodermic needles, paint cans and plastic bags.

Next to Haider's stall, a herder waits to slaughter the first sheep of the day. Nine sheep are tied up, oblivious that they'll end up on a dinner plate.

Haider and Bashar buy their produce from a wholesaler and make just enough from retail customers to get by. About 20% rot and go to waste; they dump it in the field for the sheep to finish off.

Haider unloads the truck and swats away clouds of flies.

"It is very different from Atlanta," he tells me, remembering his trips with Nancy to the supermarket. He knows now what it means to be comfortable in life; it was that much harder to move forward once he returned from America.

He recounts for me the troubles he and his family faced when they returned to Abu Ghraib. I learn details that before were sketchy.

Bashar was detained again in July 2006 by U.S. forces and held for five years. The family says there were never any charges leveled against him. Haider shows me Department of Defense documents issued to the family. They confirm Bashar spent time at Camp Bucca, a U.S. detention facility in southern Iraq.

Ten days after Haider and Soad came back home from Atlanta, Haider tells me, he was abducted by three gunmen in a truck. They blindfolded him, tied his hands behind his back, drove him around Baghdad and then shoved him out.

"Let's kill him now," Haider heard one of them say. "Tell us. Are you spying for the Americans?

That's when Haider told them about his daughter and how he went to America only for her sake.

Haider believes the gunmen checked out his story. They spared his life but decided to hold him for $20,000 in ransom.

His sisters sold the gold jewelry they received for their weddings. They borrowed money from relatives. Somehow they eked out enough to make the payment.

A few months later, they sold their home in Abu Ghraib and moved to a smaller, more rustic rented house in Al Alam, where no one knew their story.

Noor's mother, Iman, left the family with her second child, Karar, and asked for a divorce. Noor is growing up without knowing her brother and rarely sees her mother anymore.

Noor's grandmother adopted Noor as her own child, but the family was anxious for Haider to remarry and offered a proposal to Fatima, a family friend.

Fatima says her brothers warned her about marrying a man with a disabled child. One day, they said, the grandparents will die, the sisters who were still single will marry and leave home and the child will fall on you.