One of the most surprising things about “The Mommy Wars” (Random House), a new collection of essays edited by Leslie Morgan Steiner, is the number of mothers who describe being “dropped” at cocktail parties when saying they stay at home. Apparently, the conflict between mothers who work outside the home and mothers who don’t is getting ugly. “The Mommy Wars,” published today, pushes the debate forward by asking warriors on each side of the battle lines to tell their stories.

Ms. Morgan Steiner asked 26 mothers, some who stay at home and some who work full time, to contribute essays. Very few of them echo the old saws, “How can she leave her child?” and “What does she do all day at home?” Most are deeply personal, offering tales of postpartum depression, careers unfulfilled, and the deep joys of parenthood.

While each story is different, it’s a bit disappointing that the majority of contributors are professional writers, many working from home. Where is the woman who is out of bed at 6 a.m., reminding her children to brush their teeth, and whisking them off to school with play date notes before heading for the office at 7 a.m.? What about the woman who squeezes a four-day business trip into 36 hours so she can be back home for a pediatrician’s appointment? In other words, where are the mothers I know? Where is Brenda Barnes, the PepsiCo executive who gave up her job for her children in 1998 (and took it back last year, becoming chief executive of Sara Lee Corporation). What about Lisa Caputo, the president of Women & Company, who is raising two children while running a division of one of the largest financial services companies in the world? Or my sister-in-law, Penny Diamond? After managing her now ex-husband’s photography studio, she now manages children’s camps out of necessity: She’s balancing two children and not enough child support. These are jobs that require long hours away from home.

A few essays stand out: Monica Buckley Price recounts her struggle with her son’s diagnosis with autism, and her subsequent decision to stay home with him. Terri Minsky, the creator of the popular Disney Channel show “Lizzie McGuire,” left her family in New York for four months while she lived in Los Angeles. Who could debate that choice, when she’s made my daughter and a whole generation of girls so happy? Even though her children shouted, “I hope you never come back!” as she left for Los Angeles, I’m glad she knew she had to go.

I was a working mother for 12 years, running Lebenthal & Company, my family’s brokerage firm. The company was founded by my working grandmother, Sara Lebenthal, in 1925. I found out I was pregnant with my first child, Ben, on the day of the first Take Your Daughters to Work Day in 1993. The tension was already in my mind when my father and I were featured in the New York Times business section as an example of a daughter already at work – and succeeding. How would I be able to balance the two?

When Charlotte was born in 1996, I took the subway home after work and was in the hospital five hours later. Ellie, who turns 2 next month, is the reason people laugh at how fast I respond to e-mails: I learned to use my BlackBerry with one hand while pushing her stroller with the other. I’m sure there are those who have tsked as I rushed from nursery school or missed the school’s annual mother-daughter luncheon. I’m proud to say it became a mother-daughter breakfast the next year, after my husband pointed out that the fathers’ event had always been in the morning so the men could get on with their busy days.

It’s a confusing world, but our children have adjusted, as children tend to do. When Ben was 2, he told me only girls could be president. Charlotte has been the CEO of her own imaginary diamond repair factory for six years – she got the job when she was 3. Ellie has big shoes to fill. She is named after my aunt, Eleanor Lebenthal Bissinger, the head of Lebenthal’s operations for 20 years.

My children’s strength gave me reassurance that they didn’t lose out on what other children might gain from having a stay-at-home mother. Now I’ll have a chance to find out. Upon the sale of our 80-year-old business at the end of last year, I am out of the work force. For the time being, I’m a stay-at-home mother, seeing what it’s like on the other side. Each time I fill out an application for school or camp, I pause at the blank for “mother’s work number.” I used to be be annoyed that it wasn’t the first line on any application, but now I stop and think: Should I put my old work number? Should I write why I’m “just a mom” now? Will someone think I’ve been fired?

While I’m convinced my children are not only fine, but very well adjusted, I do have fears of getting to the pearly gates and being told that being a working mom – not to mention wearing a fur coat – was the wrong choice all along. But in the middle of one of those worrisome daydreams, invariably one of my children will tell me,”Mommy, you are the best Mommy I’ve ever had.”

It is those three little voices – and not the Op-Eds, magazine articles, and books on the “mommy wars,” however valuable – that I really need to listen to.